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for twenty-year-olds who have never been loved

All of a sudden two decades have passed and you still have not kissed anyone with tongue, or kissed anyone at all for that matter, or had a 3 AM conversation with someone who would rather look into your eyes for ten minutes straight than talk. You have never worn a lover’s sweater or “forgotten” it at home in your bedroom just so you would have an excuse to see them again. You have never even stood face-to-face with someone who makes your hands shake so hard it feels like they’re both having a separate anxiety attack.

This causes you much guilt and self-blame and sadness but above all, an overwhelming curiosity. Are you really that ugly, that unwanted, that uninteresting, that boring, that no one, absolutely no one, has ever looked at you like the only thing on earth?

The answer is no. The better answer is that someone out there, somewhere in the world, is “wondering what it’s like to meet someone like you,” and they have two decades worth of love stored in their veins like a shoot-‘em-up drug, and they’re just about ready to inject it into someone else’s bloodstream. All you have to do is roll up your sleeves and wait for it to happen.

At times you felt so lonely you could stand at the edge of a cliff with nothing beneath you but air and grass and a long, long way down, and you’d still feel emptier than that canyon itself. Maybe you even danced with yourself alone in your room a few times, arms outstretched around a ghost, pretending someone else’s hands were on your waist, someone else’s eyes boring into yours.

Or maybe you fell temporarily in love with strangers on public transportation, fell in love with anybody who so much as accidentally brushed your hand on the way past. For you, falling in love with dozens of people a day was a coping mechanism for not having anyone to love you in return. But people are not eggs and falling in love with a dozen of them does not mean your shell will remain uncracked. One day you’re going to hit the point where you’re so desperate for human contact that you’re going to snap in half and all your love will bleed out like egg yolk.

But someone out there is eating a bowl of Ramen noodles right now, or putting on slippers, or settling into bed. They are doing all the normal things that you’ve done in your own life. They are just like you. They have cellulite and extra fat in all the wrong places and goals and fears and doubts and bad handwriting.

The truth is that they are just like you, and being just like you, they’re looking for a lover too. They’re what you might call a soulmate.

They think they’re all alone in feeling the way they do, but you’re really both two halves of a whole.

And one day you’ll meet them, bump into them on the street, and your two halves will be put together, and you’ll make one.

ruminations — jeon wonwoo | 1,289 words | fluff

gender neutral reader. warnings: alcohol.

you're about to get up from the sofa and go to the bathroom to carry out your nighttime routine when the doorbell rings. that's odd; you're not expecting anyone at the moment.

but when you open the door, you see your tall boyfriend standing in front of you, being held up by his best friend, mingyu. literally being held up in the sense that mingyu has an arm around his waist and his other hand on wonwoo's back. wonwoo looks like he's putting zero effort into standing. his eyes widen when he looks at you, but he says nothing.

right. your boyfriend had gone for a party with the rest of his bandmates, and you'd asked him if he wanted to spend the night at your place afterwards, but you didn't expect him to be here almost an hour before the party ended.

you open your mouth, a couple of questions on your tongue, but mingyu shakes his head. "don't make him cry."

you're bemused by what he's said. "why...would i do that?"

"not that you'd— he's very wound up today. he just looks like he's going to cry at any moment."

you look at wonwoo. he's looking at you very seriously, like his actions are going to depend on what you're going to say next.

"hi, baby," you say carefully. wonwoo moves out of mingyu's grasp and into yours.

you're hardly as strong as mingyu, and you admit it takes quite some effort to make sure wonwoo doesn't fall. "just how much did he have?" you ask mingyu. wonwoo's hand finds its way to yours, fingers intertwining.

"not much at first, but then he lost a bet to hoshi, and..."

you tut. wonwoo is never really into playing drinking games. "you didn't stop him?"

"i would have, if we had been on the same team. it was funny watching him tug joshua's hair again and again."

you chuckle. "you're evil, you know that?"

mingyu's about to say something when wonwoo mumbles. "what's that?" you ask him.

"tired."

"of course you are. mingyu, thank you so much for—"

"hey, no problem. i know he'd do the same for me."

"get a girl first," wonwoo says, looking at his friend. you let out a surprised laugh while mingyu stands there with his mouth open.

"that's how you show your thanks to me?"

you push wonwoo inside, bidding mingyu goodnight before he shuts the door. "i think you need to sleep before the alcohol really hits you," you say. wonwoo hasn't let go of your hand even now.

you decide to take him into the kitchen to make him sit for a while and see if he needs some water, but he stands resolutely when you try to tug him forward.

"what is it?" you ask gently.

he blinks at you. "you look really good."

your words catch in your throat. it's not very often that wonwoo's verbal with his affection. "aw. thank you, wonwoo," you say, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

he shakes his head. "i mean it. did you know you look really pretty tonight?"

"now i do. thank you, baby. do you want some water?"

he shakes his head again, and doesn't budge when you try to get him into the kitchen.

"something on your mind?"

wonwoo simply takes his hand out of yours and holds your face with both his hands, tilting your head up so you face him. he looks tired, like he said, but his brown eyes are sparkling under his glasses. you can't tell if it's from the light, or—

"do you believe in reincarnation?"

"huh?"

"do you...believe in reincarnation?"

you rest your hands on wonwoo's, taking them off your face so you can talk easier, but you don't let go. "where did that come from?"

"i asked you first."

you sigh. "well...no."

wonwoo's lips part, and you realize those sparkles in his eyes are unshed tears which are now collecting along his waterline. "oh," he says in a small voice.

you're beyond confused. what the hell happened for mingyu to warn you not to make him cry? "wonwoo?" when he doesn't respond, you sink down to the ground and pull him, so he's sitting cross-legged in front of you. you're still holding onto his hands like they're a lifeline. "what made you ask me that?"

he shrugs and huffs. so you've hit some sore spot you didn't even know existed. "i'm taking off your glasses, okay?" he says nothing when you reach forward to slide them off his face and hook them to the collar of your shirt. then you push his hair back from his face.

"stop," he mumbles, but he doesn't make any effort to push you away.

"what? sorry, am i annoying you? do you want to go to bed?"

"no. this. being...cute."

"i'm just taking care of you? i haven't even done anything yet."

wonwoo sighs and takes one of your hands again, tracing it with his thumb.

you stand up, hoping he'll keep holding your hand so you can pull him to his feet. instead, he remains put in his place and that makes you fall into his lap.

"wonwoo?"

"minghao said something about...if he could become a mosquito, he'd trouble jun in every life. and i wondered if...you know."

you wait for him to gather his words, even though you think you know where this is headed.

"if you'd be with me in every life, too. but now..."

oh. "won—"

"it's okay. i'll...manage."

you can't help but giggle. he looks at you like you've offended him. "you're acting like i made my choice," you explain.

"didn't you?"

you trace the bridge of his nose. he closes his eyes. "wonwoo," you say slowly. you need to think it through, not hurt him. it's not like you've been dating very long; a year is just enough time for you to be serious about your relationship, but the fact that he's been thinking about being together in all your other lives too...

"hm."

"do you really see us together in every life?"

"you don't."

"i never said that."

"but you just said that you don't believe in—"

"i don't, but if i could always be with you...then i don't mind."

it's magical, seeing the hurt in his eyes vanish and be replaced by almost childlike wonder. "you'd...always be with me?"

"if i could trouble you forever, yes."

he laughs. he looks really good, you realize, sitting in your apartment, his hair hair all askew and his hands locked around your waist. the fact that he came back to you, to your place, and took up your offer instead of being hungover all by himself makes your heart warm.

"did i ever tell you?" you ask, running your hand through his hair.

"probably not?"

"i love you."

it's not often that you say this particular phrase to each other, because you're both better at actions than words, but you think this is a good time to say them.

wonwoo smiles dopily at you, and you can almost picture your future with him if you close your eyes. the thought makes you tingly inside, and even though he probably won't remember everything he's said tonight, you can't help but feel like your heart is beating loud enough for him to hear.

wonwoo pulls you closer, and you're filled with the sudden urge to press yourself as close to him as possible so this moment never passes. "i have another question."

"ask me after you change into something more comfortable than your jeans?"

"it won't take long." he tilts your chin down and you're so, so gone. "would you still love me if i was a worm?"

"...hoshi's so dead."

Can you please use this to release the new update Clover?! Please I love this series so much

i hear yewww

warnings: bit of body image issues

can’t afford love | myg (m) #11

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the week goes by painfully slow

and with jun not with you

it always feels so lonely.

working from home

you put spongebob on in the background

just to get a feel that jun’s with you while you work

:(

thursday rolls around

you go about your day as usual

except there’s something

unusual

yoongi texts you

at 1pm

while jun’s at daycare

and he’s supposed to be at work

from: yoongi

‘And?’

from: you

‘what?’

from: yoongi

‘Any news on your womb?’

from: you

‘god don’t ever say that again’

from: yoongi

‘Can’t help it’

from: you

‘anyway, nope. seems like i’m not pregnant’

from: yoongi

‘Okay. Better luck next time.’

from: you

‘right’

from: yoongi

‘What are you upto?’

???

since when do y’all just… text each other like this?

the answer is NEVER.

from: you

‘having sex with my neighbor he says hi’

you can’t help but grin as you type the immature text out

from: yoongi

‘Nice’

‘How does he like my leftovers?’

oh.

LMAO.

from: you

‘don’t ever say that again either’

from: yoongi

‘Sloppy seconds?’

from: you

‘bye’

from: yoongi

‘Ok ok sorry’

‘Anyway take care, sugar. I’ll see you Saturday. X’

your heart beats a little faster in your chest

and you don’t like that

from: you

‘see you saturday’

and now you make it your mission to seek out the most mindboggling outfit

it’s an award ceremony with some pretty big important people

and it’s supposedly very elegant and fancy

by the looks of the massive hall it’s being held in

so you wanna go all out

not caring that you might be overdressed

you don’t care

not really

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saturday comes rather quickly

you’ve been in the shower all day

getting ready

scrubbing every inch of your body

exfoliating, using your most expensive hair products

in your little robe

with your hair in your towel

as your phone vibrates whilst you’re rubbing moisturizer into your skin, your heart jolts

for some reason thinking it’s yoongi, you lunge at your phone

but it’s simply your makeup artist and hairdresser duo letting you know they’re on the way

right

you even booked a damn mua and hairstylist.

you genuinely just want to go all out

sliding into a thong and strapless bra

they’re not even a set but they match so who cares

it doesn’t matter because you’re wearing shapewear on top of it anyway

hugs your body just right

you put your robe back on and start detangling your hair

it doesn’t take long for them to arrive

you’ve known them for quite a while now

known them since your college days

jungkook, the hairstylist and hoseok the makeup artist

they’re pretty damn talented and you’ve booked them often before

but you haven’t been to any major events since your divorce so you haven’t seen them in a year

“so,” jungkook starts, “where the hell have you been, loca?”

settling in their workstation and setting up the ringlight, you lightly chat, catch up

you chuckle and shake your head. “been here.”

“you moved?” hoseok asks, which is a clear answer considering this address is different than the one they’d usually make you up in

“yeah,” you quietly sigh. “been on my own.”

both their tapioca pearls drop to the ring around your finger

at least, where they’d expect it to be

except it’s not there

not where it should be

“wait, what happened? are you okay?” hoseok takes a moment to sit down on your bed, hand reaching out to yours

they were somewhat acquainted with yoongi

you nod and chuckle. “it’s okay. it’s been like, a year.”

jungkook starts nibbling on his liprings, eyes squinting at you in empathy

“it was a mutual agreement.”

no, it wasn’t.

“did he cheat?”

“no.”

“was he violent?”

“no.”

it’s nice they’re checking to make sure you weren’t a victim of something sinister

though

jungkook can’t help but ask,

“fell out of love?”

at this, you stay quiet. you’d left yoongi before that could be the case

but did you two really fall out of love?

“it doesn’t matter, okay? all that matters is he’s gonna be there tonight and i need you two to do what you do best and make sure i look the best.”

they quickly glance at each other before nodding and giving you a high five

“on it!”

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by the time they’re done with you, you glance in the mirror for the first time that’s not from a distance

and

goodness

you almost want to cry

lol

again, a phenomenal job

your dress would fit so perfectly with this look

your hair would compliment it perfectly. jungkook did an amazing job

your makeup is nudy and peachy yet glimmery and showstopping.

your cheeks rosy, contoured, shimmery

you’re so alluring

you can’t stop staring at yourself

it’s been so long since you’ve felt

pretty.

beautiful.

worth looking at.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

they help you into your dress

which is

so

damn

heavy

thanks to the pearls

you hadn’t thought about how your arms would have to be out like this since it’s a strapless dress

your pregnancy made you gain weight and you’d never thought you’d have thought about stretch marks on your arms but here you are

you’re not entirely comfortable with your arms being out like this

but the dress is so damn gorgeous that you think it’s just best to bite the bullet

even if you’re going to be hyper aware of your arms the entire night

you have no idea how you’re gonna be walking on heels with the weight of this dress on you

you have a delicate pearl necklace sitting around your neck

and soft pearl earrings

you’re totally overdressed

but you also don’t give a fuck

right as you glance in the mirror, your phone vibrates

but before you can look at it, hoseok and jungkook call out to you.

“have fun and be safe.” hoseok wraps his arms around you and gently pats your back

“you look absolutely stunning.” jungkook’s turn to hug you and you sigh in content

“thank you guys. you’re the best.”

the price is hefty but you also look better than you have

except for maybe your wedding day

which they were also the glam team for

you looked so gorgeous

yoongi tried to stay strong but ended up choking and tearing up as soon as you got close enough to him

you were so young

he was so young

ages 20 & 22

so damn full of life

:(

and then you’re reminded that you got texted not too long ago

from: namjoon

‘Let me know when you arrive, I’ll come pick you up at the entrance’

he’s so attentive <33

from: you

‘thanks mr. celebrity. will do’

from: namjoon

‘🙄🙄’

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

upon your arrival, like promised, namjoon’s by the door when your cab pulls up

clad in an extremely expensive tuxedo it seems

hair styled so elegantly, swooped to the side that shows his forehead so well

he opens the door for you and helps you out but not before thanking you for coming by giving you a hug

he quietly gasps. “you look absolutely stunning,” he says into your hair, rubbing your back

you return the compliment

it’s pretty cold out

“let’s get you out of the cold,” he chuckles when he notices the goosebumps all over your shoulders

he guides you into the massive hall

thousands of people

standing around

chatting

drinking

eating appetisers

looks like some real important people are here

you barely make it halfway through the hall when namjoon is pulled from your arm

he gives you an apologetic smile but you wave it off, telling him to go do what he needs to

you find yourself by the snacks, clutch in hand

your eyes trail the delicacies

hmm

maybe you should–

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d assume you were one of the awards.”

the voice makes you turn around and you instantly pull him into a hug

“it’s been so long.” you pout your lips as he rubs your back gently.

“i know, i know. i’ve been so busy.”

“so, i heard. mr. park jimin, aka the up and coming model ready to take the world by storm.” you nudge him with your hip

he shakes his head yet can’t help but smile.

“stop it,” he mumbles sheepishly

“i’m serious! congrats on your contract with dior, jimin. i’m so damn proud of you.”

his eyes disappear behind his wide smile and it seems like he’s about to get emotional so he pulls you in for another hug instead

another voice speaks up behind you two

“what are we celebrating?”

you turn to look over jimin’s shoulder

“damn. you look really good. i thought you were jimin’s plus one.”

you reach out to smack his shoulder but he dodges your attack just in time, hands still in his pockets

“what are you trying to say, you little jerk?” you huff at the tall man with pillowy lips and broad shoulders

“shouldn’t you address someone of my rank with more respect?” he crosses his arms

“your rank?” you echo and this time, jimin pulls away

“you haven’t heard? seokjin’s father stepped down as CEO. seokjin is now the CEO of kim enterprises.”

your eyes almost bulge out of your sockets as you turn to seokjin again

it really HAS been long

your isolation hasn’t been good to anyone

“congrats!!!” you pull seokjin into a tight hug, not caring how uncomfortable it is for you in this heavy pearl dress

he chuckles and rubs your back, mumbling quiet thank yous

and once again

everyone around you is moving forwards in life

and you stay behind

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you chat a bit more

“i gotta get back to my date,” seokjin says as he gives one last quick hug to you and jimin

jimin turns to you after seokjin dips. “have you uh,” he says as he looks around. “have you seen yoongi?”

you look around. “no.”

“is he here with a plus one?”

“i don’t know, jimin.”

he sighs quietly. “sorry.”

you shake your head. “it’s okay, ji. just not sure how i’d react if i came face to face with him and his date.”

he nods to what you’re saying in understanding and rubs your shoulder.

“do you have a plus one?” you ask him

he shakes his head. “no.”

it makes you smile. at least you’ll have a bit of company

“i’d pretend to be your date but we both know yoongi wouldn’t buy that.”

right

he would after.. you know

jimin points at a man standing by the bar with a camera around his neck

“that’s one of the photographers tonight. i’ve worked with him a handful of times. he’s really nice and he’s very handsome. try to chat him up,” jimin says as he nudges you with his hip

you roll your eyes. “why would i do that?”

“because i don’t want you to feel alone here when i’m not around, okay?”

“jimin, i’m divorced, not a helpless lonely teenager.”

wrong.

he chuckles and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, careful not to mess your makeup up. “i know, i know. i’m gonna go chat that girl up by the bar, she’s been staring for 13 minutes.”

oh

he’s leaving

that’s why

jimin’s gone as quickly as he came

hmm

you turn to glance at the photographer by the bar

his face is turned away but his side profile is ethereal

that is a very handsome man. wow.

you take a very small sip of champagne just to get some alcohol into your system to get rid of the nerves

just as you decide to start walking towards him

there’s a hand on your back.

an all too familiar hand.

“almost mistook you for a shooting star.”

you turn to look over your shoulder

to make eye contact

with your exhusband.

your eyes quickly glance around him for any evidence of a plus one but you don’t see anything

your eyes drag down his body

nice beige suit, looks to be designer

long wavy hair styled so gorgeously you wish you could run your fingers through it

much like you, yoongi likes going all out

maybe thats why y’all fit so well together

“yoongi,” you greet, feeling extremely awkward cause last time you saw him, you made him put his dick in your mouth when all he had to do was attempt to get you pregnant

“sugar,” he greets back, eyes dropping down your figure. “i don’t think you belong here.”

sugar…

you frown. “hm?”

“look at you. it’s like i’m face to face with an angel. i can hardly believe how beautiful you are.” he smiles as he reaches to rub your elbow

your body heats up under his touch.

“thanks but you can stop kissing my ass. tonight’s about namjoon.”

he chuckles at your comment and holds his hands up in surrender. “just thought i’d let you know.”

“hm,” you hum as you look around, eyes falling back on the photographer by the bar who has seemingly started chatting with people around him

“anyway,” you say. you turn back to yoongi. “i’ll see you ‘round. you should probably spend time with your date.”

he tilts his head to the side. “date?”

“your plus one. you were allowed to bring a plus one, right?”

“oh, yeah. my plus one is just a coworker that’s a big fan of namjoon’s work. but i don’t really view her as my date.”

right.

lol

there’s no reason your heart should crack the way it did

hate that you keep thinking about the possibilities

bet they came in one car

did he compliment her when he saw her?

do they have inside jokes like he does with you?

“did you bring a plus one?” yoongi asks quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

you simply shrug. “i’m sure you’d love to know that.” you nod over his shoulder. “i’m telling you to spend time with her cause she’s been staring for a good 2 minutes.”

yoongi turns to look over his shoulder and you hate how it does seem like he knows the woman

“yeah. yuna.”

“go catch up with her, then. we can catch up during dinner sunday.”

with that, you turn and head for the bar, making sure not to slip or tumble because that would make your dramatic departure from yoongi look foolish

you already feel foolish.

to be continued.

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231111 - namjoon's instagram story

sometimes there’s a big hole in your soul and that’s just the way it is and you have to fill it up with songs you love and people who make you feel better and towels in your favorite color and socks that feel just right on your feet and even then sometimes part of you will leak out and other times it’ll all gush at once and you’ll feel like you’re fighting a losing battle but the fact is every time you flood you just pick up the pieces of all the little good things around you and start laying the bricks over again and yeah it’s too bad there’s got to be a hole in the first place but that’s life sometimes you babble and ebb and flow and burst but your soul is part of what keeps the world alive and it’s really just amazing you’re here so don’t worry that the sadness never fully goes away I’m just really glad we exist. the world is full of everyone and I’m happy that includes us.

such a strong and honest OC!! i love slytherin yoongis so much and i’m giggling screaming kicking my feet that this OC matches up to him 🤭🤭 thank you author!!

cold → myg (M)

Not proof read. 

♢ Pairing: Yoongi x Female!Reader → Hogwarts AU

♢ Word count: 16.6k (Idk how this happened okay)

♢ Genre: Angst, fluff, strangers to lovers, arranged marriage, slight slowburn, smut 

⌲ Description: Min Yoongi - The 7th year Slytherin student notorious for his cold and indifferent personality, and not to mention his anti-social tendencies. What was it about him that made you so curious?  - Warnings: swearing, some finger action

Hogwarts au masterlist

Keep reading

Set Me Free || myg

min yoongi x female reader

Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: 14,377 Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), drinking, soulmate breakup, smooching

Notes: banner by @itaeewon. thank you to @daechwitatamic and @oddinary4bts for beta-ing and listening to me struggle my way through this. as always.

Posting October 21, 2023, 8pm EDT

new teaser under the cut

It’s cold. The late autumn wind rustles through amber-brown-orange-yellow leaves, swirling the fallen ones into little tornadoes that scuttle across the pavement. The cold doesn’t bother Yoongi, necessarily. It’s been a while since he’s been here, in this town, on this street, but even after so much time, his body remembers the chill of November in the same way his feet remember the way to his destination. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and pauses at the street corner.

It’s strange being back here. He’d once known this neighborhood so intimately, he could map it in his sleep. Not much has changed in the almost 13 years he’s been gone. The park on the corner is the same. The playground, massive to an eight-year-old with a near-infinite imagination, stands resolute, its plastic and paint sun-faded and weathered. Further up the block, the head of the trail that snakes its way through the forest, where he’d spent countless hours playing pirates as a kid and exploring as a teen. And there, at the end of the street, is his destination.

The closer he gets, the more his stomach roils with nerves. Thirteen years since he’d walked down this sidewalk. Thirteen years since he’d walked onto that front porch. Or rather, 12 years, 5 months, and 11 days. 

But who’s counting?

There’s a light on in the front room of the house, he can see it through the big window despite the shades being pulled closed. He hesitates. He’s spent days–no, weeks–playing out in his head how this was going to go. In a moment, he’ll know if any of those scenarios were correct. And frankly, right now, he’s terrified. 

What if you start to cry? What if you slam the door in his face? What if you hug him? What if you yell at him? What if you don’t answer? What if you want to talk? What if you never want to see him again? What if you invite him in? What if you have someone over?

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

it's finally here! I'm so excited to share this with you. I'd love to know your thoughts and whether or not you're excited!! there's so much more I wanted to include, but maybe (hopefully) there will be a part 2 somewhere down the road.

I LOVED THIS SO MUCH! i think this is the first long mingyu fic i’ve ever read and i’m so glad it was this one! i loved how oc was firm in her decision at first but eventually realized that it’s okay to open her heart again 🥹🥹 and thank god for emotionally intelligent mingyu!!! he’s so fluffy and good as a dad that i forgot he was also HOT but then i was very much reminded with the ending 🤭 thank you so much author!!

In Soft Hands | Part 2 (Mingyu)

Rating/Genre: M18+, strangers to friends (idiots) to lovers, rom-com vibes; fluff, smut 💖, angst Pairings: SingleDad!Mingyu x DaycareTeacher!Reader(f), mentions of Joshua, Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Vernon, Wonwoo, Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Seungkwan Warnings: Explicit smut, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected vaginal penetration, size kink, hugedick!Mingyu bc i literally cannot help myself, Mingyu is slightly dom and reader is slightly subby, nipple play, fingering, choking, reader isn’t bratty (maybe just a tiny bit), kind of bulge kink (could be read as such), too much talk about how big he is but idc i love it, creampie, hints of an impreg/breeding kink, a bit of discussion about protection, pet name ‘baby’, minor injuries (no blood) and a visit to urgent care, some tears, a little bit of trauma from past relationships but nothing intense, sex while there’s a kid in the house (i don’t imagine that’s a trigger bc people do that all the time with their own kids but figured i’d mention it to be safe, the kid does NOT walk in on them) same warnings as previously about kids/parenting/having a family, even more cuteness with a 4-year-old kid, reader is shorter/overall smaller than Mingyu Word Count: 17.5k Summary: What happened probably shouldn't have happened. But that doesn't mean you regret it...

PART ONE

A/N: Second + final part! You need to read part one first. I literally can NOT believe the notes on the first part after only three days - but damn is it nice to know that longer fics can be well-received!! Anywayyy fun stuff in here - if you're just here for the smut you gotta scroll down a while :)

Mingyu doesn’t kiss you when he walks you to the door that night, opting instead to simply give you a shy yet knowing smile, his hand high up on the door frame as he hangs against it to once again give you a tiny view of something that is sure to damage your health.

You don’t talk about what happened. 

When Mingyu comes to pick up Marco the next day, things feel incredibly normal, which you suppose is a relief. You still think about kissing him again the entire time he’s in front of you – but you don’t! So, that’s a win, surely.

It doesn’t help that every time you so much as look at Marco, you’re reminded of Mingyu’s existence. And not just being on that couch with him. No, you think about him laughing and joking around with his friends while they play their two-on-two games. Or the way he looks at you with the most careful anticipation as you take the first bite of a new recipe he’s having you try out. Or that scrunched up smile, proud eyes crinkling, when his son does something particularly silly.

It’s Saturday, two days after you were at his house, when he texts you. 

MG: Busy this afternoon? I told him I’d take him to the port to go on the carousel and get ice cream and he might have asked if you were coming 😁 MG: But I completely get it if you can’t or aren’t up for it YN: Ah that sounds fun! Hmmm YN: I actually have some things I need to get done today YN: I won’t have a chance tomorrow bc my friend is having a bridal shower and I’m helping to set up YN: 🙁 sorry it’s just a busy weekend! MG: Can I help? MG: I mean like is there something I can take off your hands? YN: Haha no it’s ok. It’s just like house stuff YN: Groceries for the week, swap out my annoying leaky shower head etc YN: I've been putting it off for too long... MG: Lol that is the exact kind of thing I can take off your hands YN: Lol right YN: Nah it’s ok you don’t have to do that. I have time today MG: Sure but if I help you then you’ll also have time to ride a carousel with a little boy that asked for you MG: By name YN: Don’t guilt me mister MG: Guilt you into letting me help you? Lol MG: I can install a new shower head in no time and then you can buy us our ice cream and we’ll call it even

It feels much more cruel to say no to Marco. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself to feel better upon sending your next message – just one word:

Deal. 

-

While you pick up some quick groceries, Mingyu and Marco have the run of your place. (You made sure to hide anything even mildly embarrassing before they arrived). After the quickest weekly shop you could manage, you make your way back inside, dropping the heavy bags on the counter and being met with silence. 

“Gyu?” 

“Your bedroom door was squeaking. Did you know that?” he asks as he comes down the hallway, Marco following behind, hand dragging against the wall. “Anyway, it’s fixed.” Then he shoots you with a dazzling smile.

“You fixed my door?” You don’t want to seem too pleased. He shouldn’t be doing all that stuff for you anyway. But it is… kind of nice. And, frankly, convenient.

“Your door, your showerhead. The light in your fridge.”

“What were you doing looking in my fridge?” you tease, pulling it open to put a few things away to find it lit up for the first time in weeks. You just haven’t made it a priority to go out and get the right bulbs yet. 

“Don’t complain,” Mingyu teases as Marco climbs onto one of your island stools and makes himself right at home. “Now, you can actually see what you have in there. Which, frankly, isn’t a lot.”

“Hey–! What do you think I was doing today?” you frown stubbornly, shaking the grocery bag you're currently unloading for emphasis. “And I-I’m not complaining… I just– you don’t need to do all that stuff for me.”

“It’s a friend thing, Y/N. Friends do things for each other. It’s fine,” he replies. 

“I helped too,” Marco informs, reaching for a banana from the bunch that you haven’t put away yet. 

“Thank you, kiddo,” you say warmly, ripping one open for him and handing it over. “How does it look in there?”

“Good,” he says through a squishy mouthful.

“I can also finish that door trim that’s missing in the hallway if you want,” Mingyu offers, catching your eye once more. Then he lifts his hands in defense. “Only if you want.”

You hold back your smile, hiding by putting some stuff away in your cupboard. “I don’t even know where to get… what we would need…”

“I have it,” he replies simply. “It’s basic. Could do it for you this week if you want.”

You watch him a moment, trying to tell what this means, what he means by all this. It’s actually hard to be around him knowing that what you felt the other night has to stay there. “Ok,” you say softly after another second, knowing you’re too weak to say no. As hard as it is, you still do want to be around him. 

It’s a friend thing. That’s what he said. 

You’re friends.

-

It’s a gorgeous day – not too hot like August can tend to be. Especially with the breeze coming up off the lake, just strong enough to ruffle Marco’s hair. 

It’s been so long since you’ve been to the portside carousel; you grew up close enough that it’s a nostalgic summer activity you used to do with your family. But that’s mostly loose memories – you definitely haven’t ridden it in the last decade. 

“Which one are you going for?” Mingyu asks, leaning into your arm while he has a hand on top of each of Marco’s shoulders to keep him close in line. 

“Gotta go for one of the moving ones, right?”

“Well, obviously.”

“I think there’s three together riiight…” You watch closely, pointing with your hand as the ones you’re referring to come back around. “There.”

The line starts moving, the carousel filling up once more with humans far tinier than you and far far tinier than Mingyu, but you don’t care. The three of you hightail for the horses you marked as yours, Marco giggling as you hurry him, weaving through all the far more boring ponies.

“You want the middle?” you ask, patting the seat of the white horse then helping him climb up once he agrees though he doesn’t really need the assistance. 

He clings tight to the pole for a moment, watching his dad get on, then giggling at the fact that Mingyu’s feet are still firmly planted on the ground, even once he’s seated atop the pink-maned horse.

As soon as the ride starts, he’s bouncing in his seat, cheesing at the way the horse begins to rise up and down, taking him with it. 

You pretty much watch him and his sparkly eyes the whole time. Well, except for when his horse goes down and Mingyu’s goes up and you’re left staring at the cutest smile you can imagine, pointy canines and all. 

After the third time riding it in a row, your cheeks are starting to hurt, and the two of you are able to steer him away with the promise of an ice cream cone. As you eat, chocolate accumulating around the corners of the boy’s mouth, sure to find its way onto his t-shirt as well, the three of you walk slowly down the sand-trekked pathway along the beach, surrounded by a sky of solid blue. You try not to linger on the desire to hold Mingyu’s hand, slotting your fingers between his bigger ones.

You certainly don’t need to be doing that.

When the ice cream cones are finished, and you reach the end of the little stretch of beach, you walk ahead with Marco, closer to the water at his request, making side-by-side divots in the wet sand as you go. He’s pretty amused by it, jumping harder to watch the flat of sand crack under the weight. 

“Is it cold?” he asks when his eyes settle back on the water, the sun starting to glint off of it in bright sparkles now that it’s started to come down a bit. 

“Pretty cold, yeah,” you say through a chuckle. “You wanna feel?”

“I don’t have my swimsuit,” he says, pouting up at you. 

“We’ll just put our feet in,” you offer, slipping off your shoes to step onto the crust of cool sand then watching as he plops onto his bum. He rips at the velcro on his sandals then kicks them off, springing up until his toes are being licked by the waves.

“Ahh! It’s cold!” he shrieks, a loud uninhibited laugh flying out of him as he runs back to you, arms wrapping around your thigh. But just a second later, he’s grabbing your hand instead to pull you with his full weight towards the water. “Feel it!”

You let out a tiny sound when a fresh wave washes up, immersing both of you up to your ankles. But even though he squeals again with you, he’s quickly stomping in the water, splashing it up onto your legs in amusement. 

“Daddy!” he calls out, head whipping around to find Mingyu who is standing a few metres back with his hands in his pockets, watching diligently through his sunglasses. “Daddy! The water is so cold!”

“Is it?” he calls back with a smile, taking a couple steps closer but not fully joining the two of you as you wade in the water, feeling the squish of sand between your toes. 

Marco walks farther, watching the water rise up his shins until it’s just under his knees.

“That’s far enough. I don’t have dry clothes for you,” you hear from behind.

The boy looks up at you, his eyes shining, every tooth on display, as you follow a step closer. He’s so adorable you want to squeeze him. “I want to go in more,” he says lower, like he’s telling you a secret. 

“Marco…” you warn through a little smile in a similarly quiet voice. 

The two of you watch each other, and then you can clearly see the mischief bubbling up in his eyes and you reach to grab him just as he goes to lunge forward into the deeper water. You swing him up, spinning around, pulling musical laughter out of him, until he’s propped up on your hip, secured tightly in your arms, wet feet cold where they brush against your thighs. 

“You little monkey!” you scold in jest, jostling him around a little as you jog your way back to the sand with him clinging to your neck.

“I saw that,” Mingyu says once you're close, smirking at his son and pointing at him accusingly which just makes him cackle more.

A second later, he’s drying off Marco’s feet with the bottom of his shirt, slipping his sandals back on while you hold him, enjoying the brief cuddle as his head relaxes onto your shoulder. 

It feels too nice. All of it.

- 

Basketball night comes around again. While the others bounce a ball back and forth with Marco, Joshua comes to sit with you, pouring some water into his mouth as he walks.

He plops down beside you with a huff, then glances over. “You can play with us, you know.”

You tear your eyes away from Mingyu (his ass just looks hypnotizingly round in those shorts, ok?) and laugh, instantly intimidated by the thought due to your lack of coordination. “Ah, I spend enough time running around with that kid throughout the day.”

“Oh, true, true.” He smiles then takes another sip of his water. “Wild, isn’t he? Endless energy.”

You nod, back to watching as they run around, Marco chasing, trying to ‘defend’ against Mingyu – whose one step is worth three of Marco’s. “Kind of like someone else we know.”

He chuckles. “Gyu’s actually toned down quite a bit, would you believe?”

You raise your eyebrows. 

“He’s taken the dad thing pretty seriously.”

“Hm, he’s good at it,” you say, nodding as you lean back against the fence behind the bench.

“Gotta be good at something, I guess,” he jokes through a dramatic sigh. 

You let out a little breath of amusement. It’s interesting – you’ve yet to find a single thing Mingyu’s not good at. “You don’t have kids yet, do you?”

“Nope, not yet. He was a bit ahead of the rest of us. They were highschool sweethearts, him and Elena.”

Elena. Huh. Funny how you’ve managed to go all these months without even knowing his ex-wife’s name. Or that they got together so young.

“Mm, I didn’t know that.” Hopefully you’re succeeding at being as casual as you think you are. “How long have you guys been friends?”

“Uh, like eight years?” He thinks for a minute. “Yeah, most of us met just after high school so…”

“Aw. That’s sweet that all of you have stayed close since then.”

“Yeah. Actually! Not sure if he mentioned but my family has this cottage an hour north. We all try to go together at the end of summer every year.”

“Oh, that's fun."

“Are you free next weekend? If you’re not busy, you should come. I’m sure Marco would love to have you there. Well, and Mingyu.” 

You smile a little. “Really?” you say, looking over at him. You’re not sure if you’re exactly at the annual-friend-trip level of friendship yet but you certainly like the feeling of him thinking so.

“Yeah, of course,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you like the question is ridiculous.

“You have room for me?”

“Definitely. It’s a big place. And my family won’t be there for those few days so…”

“Oh, cool. I mean… yeah, maybe,” you reply, uncertain but there’s a hopefulness in your voice. It’s not exactly clear if Mingyu wants you there, considering he hasn’t mentioned it to you. 

“Let Gyu know,” he says softly as he stands, tossing his bottle on top of his bag and starting to walk backwards with a smile. “You’re definitely invited.”

“Will do,” you agree with a nod then watch as he goes off to join the others.

-

An hour later, once Marco is buckled into the car, Mingyu asks you himself.

“It’ll be… the guys… their partners… Seungcheol has a really cute ten-month old that'll be there if that holds any interest for you,” he says cheekily, resting a hand against his car. “No pressure though. I know you don’t know any of them too well.” 

Seeing the baby is tempting. The idea of being around his friends, who all seem genuinely lovely, sounds fun too. And, of course, you seem to never be able to get enough time with Marco. But you know that’s not why you want to agree so badly. 

You shouldn’t say yes. Not with the way he looks at you. Or the other way around.

“Your friends… and their partners…” you repeat, wondering if it’s just your mind jumping to how that makes the invite sound. 

He smirks a tiny bit but pushes it away, tilting his head. “You’re my friend too.”

You nod. Ok. Fair.

“Mm. It does sound kind of fun…” you say, still in waffling territory as you try to convince yourself to tell him you can’t. That it’s not a good idea.

Or just say you’re busy. Lie! Anything.

“Might be nice to get away…?” he offers, pursing his lips, raising his eyebrows, looking so innocently adorable in his attempt at coercion. 

Your smile breaks. 

Fuck, you literally cannot say no to him. 

-

The drive to the Hongs’ cottage is barely over an hour but somehow it’s still a struggle. Primarily because there’s a cranky four-year-old in the car who is somehow perpetually hungry and constantly needs to pee, even though he went right before you left. 

It’s literally only once you arrive, the car pulling up to a large cottage surrounded by lush greenery, that Marco is suddenly happy as a clam, jumping around as soon as his feet hit the dirt then running up to the open door where a pretty woman is awaiting him for a hug. 

Mingyu scoffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he rounds to the trunk, popping it and pulling out the bags. “Unbelievable.”

You suppress your own grin, taking your bag from him with a soft thank you and a hand brush that feels nicer than you want to admit. When you glance over again, more people have come to the door, welcoming the child like he's the star of the show. “He’s probably just tired.” Apparently, he’d been excited, not wanting to go down easily the night before. 

“Could’ve slept in the car,” Mingyu mutters but still smiles when you meet his eyes. The two of you start to walk over.

“At least it wasn’t a long drive.”

“Thank god.”

“Welcome, friends!” you hear, head shooting up to find Joshua in the doorway with a huge smile, his arms held up wide. It’s corny and it makes you giggle as you climb the stairs, finally catching a glimpse inside at all the wood and cozy decoration, and most beautifully, the huge windows looking out the back onto the water. Like, right onto the water. 

“This place is… stunning,” you say as you take it all in, stepping inside and kicking off your shoes following Mingyu’s lead. “Holy crap.”

Joshua lets out an airy chuckle. “Thank you. I’m lucky we get to take advantage of it,” he replies in his host-like manner, reaching out for your bag.

“Is everyone here already?”

“You’re the stragglers.”

“It’s not even late,” Mingyu dismisses, trailing after him on squeaky wood floors. 

“Late enough that dinner’s almost ready. You’re in here, Y/N,” Joshua says as he steps into one of the bedrooms, his tone immediately getting sweeter once his words are directed at you. 

You get your bags settled away, Mingyu and Marco set up in the room next to yours, which are both decked out with super comfy double beds and well-crafted dark wooden furniture that just feels so right in a cottage like this one. 

By the time you’re making your way into the kitchen, which has a view as equally stunning as the living room next to it, you can see Marco already in his bathing suit down by the dock, about to jump in to join a few other swimmers bobbing in the water. 

You find Mingyu’s side in all the hustle of the kitchen, realizing there’s more people here than you thought, and look up at him a little shyly. “You have to introduce me to everyone.”

“Yes!” he says as though it'd slipped his mind in all the social excitement. “Yes, of course. So… you know Josh. And this,” he says, pausing a moment to bring you the few steps to a woman scooping pasta onto plates. “This is Shay, his girlfriend.” She looks up, giving you a bright smile, as she continues her task. 

Quickly, you say your name and smile back, but Mingyu is already moving on, pivoting his body to the next few people, excitedly introducing you to Seungkwan, Soonyoung, and Wonwoo who are all sat at the large table, just chilling as they chat. 

Next, you’re brought to Vernon, his partner, Sam, and Haewon, who's with Seokmin. Jeonghan too is around here somewhere, you’re told. Finally, he brings you to Seungcheol who’s looking out the big living room windows with an absolutely precious baby in his arms. You say the shortest hello to Seungcheol before you’re cooing at the baby, saying hi, getting a smile as you instinctively reach out for her hand and let tiny fingers wrap around yours. 

“Oh my god, Cheol, she’s so sweet,” you breathe, coming closer, and you can feel Mingyu press to your side so he can look over your shoulder with you. “What’s her name?”

“Nari,” he tells you in the gentlest voice, looking up at you for the briefest moment. 

“Aw, hi Nari. You are so beautiful.”

“Cute, isn’t she?” Mingyu says, before leaning a bit closer to your ear to whisper: “She loves me.”

“Oh, yeah?” you tease, turning your head slightly to see him. But then his face is so close to yours. 

“Favourite uncle for sure.”

“Here, favourite uncle,” Cheol scoffs, shifting Nari with the clear intention to pass her over. “I’m gonna go find Hana.”

With that, he’s gone, and Mingyu’s holding a baby that somehow looks even tinier now in front of his giant frame. His smile is wider too, which always makes him look so soft. 

Your lips press together as you try not to burst. But he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. Like he can hear your ovaries exploding. 

He bounces just a little, like a seasoned pro, looking down at her. “Always dreamed of having a daughter, actually.”

“Really? Hm…” You ponder on that thought for a moment, scraping your mind for visions of having your own family back when it was much more within reach. “I always thought that I’d have boys for some reason.”

“Multiple?”

“Yeah, I don’t know.” You shrug, stepping closer to reach once again for her pudgy hand.

“Wanna hold her?”

You let out a playful sigh. “Obviously.”

Giggling, he passes her over, carefully making sure you’ve got her weight before letting go. 

Your next sound is more like a groan but it’s of pure satisfaction. Babies are just so warm and cuddly, and this one looks like a mini-Cheol but with squishier cheeks and poutier lips and even thicker eyelashes. “Ok. I’m gonna steal her. Don’t tell anyone,” you whisper to him, looking over your shoulder suspiciously. 

He giggles again before pressing a palm lightly against your back. “Come on, let’s go back with everyone.”

-

You hold onto her for a while, slowly meeting the rest of the crew as everyone convenes on the back deck to have some dinner. You meet Hana as well, who you find out is Hana when she exclaims: “Oh, this is my baby!” as she comes over to introduce herself.

Through a laugh, you ask if she wants Nari back but she just shrugs and shakes her head. “Unless you’re done with her. Doesn’t matter to me.”

You just cuddle the baby closer, letting your chin brush the top of her head for a moment. “Nah, I’m good. I work with the older kids so I don’t ever get the baby snuggles.”

Her face lights up. “Oh, the daycare teacher, right! Mingyu talks about you so much.”

You can’t help the warmth that spreads through your body, this time not from the bundle of heat in your arms. “Does he?”

“Oh, should I not say that?” she jokes, lowering her voice and leaning in a bit. 

Both of you settle your gaze on Mingyu who’s just a few feet away, leaning leisurely on the railing of the deck with a beer in his hand as he chats with Seungcheol and Wonwoo, handsome as ever. 

“Good things, obviously,” she adds, turning back to you then absentmindedly bringing a hand up to brush a few of Nari’s fine baby hairs back off her forehead. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Me too. It’s so calming here. And you guys have such a nice, like… welcoming vibe.”

“Aw, you think so? Yeah, we’re alright, I guess,” she jokes through a shrug. “If you met Gyu first then it really does just go up from there.”

You chuckle, already obsessed with her. “Damn, you guys really all do rag on him, huh? I thought it would just be the boys.”

“Nah, they can’t have all the fun. Please tell me you’re not too nice to him. We do it for his own good, really,” she plays, taking a sip of her own drink. 

“'For his own good',” you repeat through a laugh, sneaking another glance at him just as he does the same to you. You look away probably a little too fast, meeting Hana’s eyes once again.

“Anyway, let me know if you need anything. I know we can be overwhelming,” she says gesturing to the sheer amount of people milling about. With everyone now in the same vicinity, there must be at least fifteen of you. “Or, y’know, if you just want to smell a baby.”

-

You’re on the deck until the sun goes down, talking, playing board games, eating snacks as they’re passed around the table to you. Curled up in your chair, bare feet not even cold in the evening summer air, you look over to find Mingyu speaking into Marco’s ear. The boy is pouting, face scrunching up a little more until he’s turning around in Mingyu’s lap to place his hands very seriously on his dad’s shoulders. 

You can’t hear what they’re saying, just that Marco is asking for something, and that Mingyu is trying to respond firmly, giving his head a slow shake and repeating his instruction. Marco’s voice changes to a slight whine, and Mingyu’s eyes flick over to you for just a moment. He says something else to his son, a little defeated, then helps the boy climb off him so he can run around the table to your side.

“Y/N?” Marco asks, a little hand finding your forearm. 

“What’s up?”

“Can you… can you read with me?” He looks so serious. So hopeful. 

“Sure, cutie pie,” you say, breathing into your smile. 

“Ok,” he says, smiling widely back before turning his head to his dad and saying, much more loudly, “She said yes!”

Mingyu chuckles, subtly rolling his eyes. “Ok, buddy.”

“Is it time?” you ask across the table, starting to push your chair back as you try to withhold your laughter at his reaction. 

“It’s time. Let’s go, big man,” Mingyu groans, standing up from his own chair. 

“No, just Teacher,” Marco whines, frowning at his dad, who immediately holds up his hands. 

“Geez. Ok,” he says dramatically, dropping back into his seat.

A few of the others around laugh, and Hana turns to Mingyu with a mischievous grin. “He has a new favourite, huh?”

“That’s what I’m sayin’,” he scoffs, his smile getting wider as he shoots you a look. 

You click your teeth just loud enough for him to hear, mouthing ‘pushover’ teasingly at him as you walk past with Marco in tow. 

Inside, he goes down pretty well, following his typical routine until he’s tucked under the blanket on one side of the big bed, looking up at you through heavy eyes.

You brush over his head softly, whispering one last goodnight to him, before tip-toeing out of the room as quietly as possible, sure to close the door tight behind you. You’re sure he’s probably passed out by the time you reach the sliding door to rejoin everyone on the deck. 

“Teacher, Teacher, sit by me,” Mingyu teases in a kid voice upon seeing you come out, reaching for you playfully until you’re laughing and making your way over to the empty seat next to him to join in on the board game they’ve started to set up. 

-

Even though the cottage is only just north of where you live, it really does feel like an escape. You spend the whole of Saturday outdoors, swimming in the lake, pushing Marco on the – somewhat questionable – tire swing (apparently Mingyu is the one that strung it up so it’s his fault if anything goes wrong, you've been told), and sitting out on the colourful dock chairs in the sunshine with different configurations of people, slowly getting to know them better. 

Mingyu keeps his glasses on throughout the day, cooks up lunch for everyone, and continues to grow more attractive with each passing hour even though you know that’s not possible.

You offer to do the washing up after – he fights you on it but you don’t give in – and so you wash, and he dries, and you can see the way his friends smirk at the two of you. 

But even so, even if you try to, you can’t help the way Mingyu makes you flush and laugh. You splash water at him at every bad joke until he’s swatting you playfully with the drying towel and you’re threatening to knock him out, kicking in his direction from your post at the sink while he giggles and jumps just out of reach. 

In the afternoon, while you, Shay, and Haewon settle onto the deck, Mingyu and Seokmin are down on the grass with Marco, getting tackled by him and then tackled again as soon as they get back up.

It's impossible to ignore the trio of goofballs; Mingyu and Seokmin keep groaning and shouting, lamenting their defeat, each time they hit the ground, making Marco laugh wildly while launching himself at one of them again.

You look over and watch them a little, unable to help your own smile at the way Mingyu dramatically pulls himself up with much huffing and puffing, beginning to 'run' from Marco, letting out little screams of 'fear'.

"This is my future, huh?" Haewon says playfully, leaning closer to you to look down at them as well.

"Good luck with that," Shay teases, beginning to shuffle the cards you're playing with once more. "Your kid's going to be even weirder than Marco."

"Hey, it'll still be half-me."

"And half-Seok."

"At least they all entertain each other," you say through a fond smirk, finally peeling your eyes away to pick up your cards, spreading them apart to see what you have.

"You should get on that," Shay says, and you look up, your brows raising in surprise at what you can't help hearing. But, thankfully, she's not actually speaking to you.

"I'm sure he'd wanna try tonight if I let him," Haewon replies amusedly.

"Oh, is this something you guys have talked about a lot?" you ask, trying to get caught up.

"Only every time we all get together. Ever since Hana gave birth."

"I mean, Nari is cute enough to give anyone baby fever," Shay says casually, sorting her cards in her hand.

"Ugh, true." Haewon turns her head back to you. "Does working at a daycare have the opposite effect? I feel like it's gotta be nice to just be able to give 'em back at the end of the day."

"Yeah..." You nod slowly before shrugging just a little. "With most of them anyways."

-

In the evening, Marco lets Mingyu be the one to put him down this time, and you curl up as the last bits of sunlight dissipate, this time in one of the campfire chairs that surround the flickering fire. Marco ate practically his weight in toasted marshmallows so you anticipate that bedtime routine might not run as smoothly tonight, with sticky hands to clean and a sugar high to come down from.

You chat with Sam in the chair next to you, getting the details of what she does for work, how she met Vernon, all the basics you haven’t had a chance to get to yet. Similarly, she asks about your job, about how your friendship with Mingyu started.

Just as you're in the middle of trying not to sound like a goner for him, Mingyu is making his way down from the deck to join the group of you, capturing your attention when he says your name.

He passes you a cold drink which you accept before suddenly he’s lowering himself onto your lap, like a giant puppy who doesn’t realize he’s not a lap dog.

“What are you doing?” you say through your laugh, barely getting the words out clearly. Even so, your free arm naturally wraps around his waist, able to feel the muscles of his torso through his t-shirt. 

“There’s no free chairs,” he says simply, twisting a little so that he can still see you if he turns his head away from the fire. 

You huff out a laugh, tearing your eyes away from the way the glow from fire is painting the side of his face so nicely in orange-y gold. Realizing you can’t exactly open the can in your hand, you hold it up to him, smiling in thanks when he cracks it, then letting out another sarcastic laugh when he takes it from you to claim the first sip. 

“You’re kind of heavy, you know.”

He just swallows the liquid and pouts at you, bottom lip jutting out exaggeratedly. 

“Ok, fine,” you say right away, taking the drink from him and taking a swig. 

He smiles at you so giddily, wiggling in place, even more sweetly childlike than he usually is. “No one ever holds me like this.”

You giggle in disbelief at his cuteness. “I wonder why.”

Getting comfortable, he leans his head against the back of the chair, gazing at you a little, and whispers, “Should I move?”

“You don’t have to,” you say back as nonchalantly as you can, looking away from him because you just need to not be looking into his eyes right now. Something very strong is compelling you. It’s like there’s a magnet between his lips and yours. It just feels like you should kiss him. Like it would be right somehow. 

So, you stare at the fire instead, trying to tune into the conversations around you so you can stop being hypersensitive on every part of your body that is touching him, and how the heat from him is warming up your skin more than the fire is. You wonder if he can feel it, the way your heart is pumping harder behind your ribs. 

After a couple seconds, you glance at him just as his gaze drifts up to the dark sky, a halo of trees above giving way to tiny stars. The way his head is tilted back a little just makes him look hotter, showing off his jawline, extra defined by the direction of the light. “Did, uh… did he go down ok?” you try, only stuttering slightly. 

“Yeah, not too bad actually,” he says, letting out a little sigh, then he’s looking at you again. “Thank you, by the way.” He chuckles very slightly. “Feel like I should still be paying you for how helpful you are with him.”

Right away, you’re shaking your head, dismissing it. “I told you. I like it. Honestly, he listens pretty well for me, so.” You shrug a little, taking a sip from your can.

“That’s crazy... I actually can’t believe how well he listens to you.” He gives you a little look, as if he’s a bit aggrieved by it. “He’s usually too hyper.”

“Well, he’s still super hyper at school. Don’t get me wrong,” you remind, pulling a smile from him. 

“I just mean, like… he must feel comfortable with you. He trusts what you say to him.”

You're a little surprised by his words, or maybe just grateful. “Seems like it,” you say lightly. 

“I can see why.” He looks away a bit as he says the words quietly, still intended for you to hear but just maybe a little shy. 

The pounding behind your ribs is coming back. “‘Why’…?”

“Why he likes you so much.” He looks at you, eyes sweet and wide as he smiles just a touch. 

Fuck, you want to kiss him so badly. You don’t know what to say.

Dropping your gaze, you take a little breath, letting the smile that so badly wants to come out press onto your lips. “Gyu,” you say so quietly, almost like you’re scolding but you’re clearly not. He’s just making this… hard. 

“Y/N,” he whispers back, but it’s warmer, the letters fitting perfectly in his mouth. 

“Your friends are all here,” you say sheepishly, as if that means anything. You’re not sure if it will to him. Don’t flirt with me in front of them? Hell, the two of you have been doing that all day. Don’t make me—

Fuck.

He smiles, a little breath of amusement coming out, then he’s reaching for the drink, taking another swig and settling his attention on the animated conversation happening between Haewon and Seokmin in the next chair over. 

-

“Holy shit– look at the moon,” you say, pausing right where the pathway splits between going down to the docks and back up to the cottage, to stare up at the sky. Mingyu stops with you, immediately following your gaze. “It’s so clear tonight,” you continue in awe, barely even looking where you’re stepping as you start downwards, wanting to get past the few tall trees on the property so that you can really see the way the moon’s white reflects off the water in such a clear stroke. 

You hear a chuckle behind you then his louder footsteps on the dock as he trails after you. When you reach the end, perched out as far as possible so that you can get the full effect, he’s suddenly beside you.

He whistles quietly, head turned up at the stars. “Damn, look how bright that is.” He points straight up, finding the sparkliest one right above you. 

“Wow,” comes out of you, barely audible, then you’re lowering yourself onto the dock, leaning back on your palms. It’s very quiet, some of the sound from those still at the fire pit traversing all the way to you but it’s barely noticeable now. The water’s really still too, large pools of it so smooth that they look like glass. 

He slowly sits and leans back as well, crossing his arm over yours a bit to fit on the dock beside you, his head resting back. 

You eyes scan the dark silhouette on cottages and trees on the other side of the lake then trail back up. “Is it always this pretty here?”

After a few seconds, he takes in a long breath. “I don’t remember it being this pretty.” It’s quiet, and dreamy, and you realize that Mingyu is really not good at hiding things. Or maybe he’s not trying to hide anything at all. 

You look over at him, compelled once again. He’s somehow even more beautiful in the moonlight than he was by the fire. For once, you’re not even surprised. This whole painting in front of you, hundreds of stars, a shining full moon, the expanse of lake literally shimmering for you. 

But you want to look at him. 

He turns his head to you, his lips pressing together a little. Then his shoulders twist a little too, adjusting so he’s only leaned on one hand, his torso facing you. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” you whisper back, not nearly as nervous as you feel. 

He’s close, enough for you to see the tiny mole on the tip of his nose, even in the low light. Still, he waits, gaze jumping between your eyes, trying to figure out what they’re telling him. You don’t even fully know yourself. 

You turn a little too, then watch your hand as it lifts to rest tentatively on his chest. His really nice chest. For a moment there, you forgot just how badly you want him. But the feel of him under your palm brings it right back, your whole body buzzing with your nerves and attraction for him. 

He leans in just an inch, his eyes dropping to your lips, and you can feel the question mark. But your hand’s already slipping up, raising goosebumps along his neck where your fingers graze his skin, sinking into the back of his hair. 

“Agh, I’m trying to be good,” he says quietly, letting his forehead press against yours, his eyes falling shut. “But I want to kiss you so fucking badly.”

A chill passes over you this time, along your shoulders, down your spine. “Fuck…” you breathe out so so quietly. Why does he have to be this hot?

His hand finds your waist, slipping around, fingers bunching delicately in the thin material of your top. You can’t help the way your breathing gets heavier, the way you pull your bottom lip into your mouth, wetting it with your tongue. 

“We’ve been so good,” you say. But you’re not sure whether you’re presenting it as a disincentive or an excuse. 

He groans a little, and you can feel your body react to the low grit of it. You want that, again and again, preferably with him a lot closer and a lot more naked. “So good,” he whispers but it’s almost a moan, and you feel yourself fold.

Before you can think, you’re tilting your head up, finding his mouth with yours, holding the back of his neck. He presses into it right away, breathing in. Your noses squish together, and your lips separate a little more until you're tasting him, hot and a bit boozy from the drink you shared. 

When you hum a soft moan, his whole body comes in, his arm wrapping around your waist more as his chest meets yours. Your hold on him gets a little harder – an unconscious don’t leave. He kisses you deeper, you kiss him deeper, his tongue feels amazing, everything feels amazing. You’re getting ahead of yourself but it doesn’t matter. Something better than ecstasy is rushing through your veins. 

There’s talking and footsteps. Getting louder.

Shit– You pull back, bringing your hand to your wetted lips as you look straight ahead, remembering the moon, and the stars, the whole reason you came down to the dock in the first place. Your heart is absolutely racing. 

“Heeey, guys,” Mingyu says over his shoulder, and you can picture the sheepish smile on his lips even though you refuse to look. 

“Someone’s looking for you,” you hear Seokmin say cutely.

“Oh, is he awake?”

“Needs another snuggle, he says.” It’s Jeonghan’s voice this time. 

“He did say Daddy or Y/N so… up to you guys,” Seokmin adds with a teasing chuckle. 

At that, you turn too, enough light from the moon casting on them to be able to see both their smirks from a few metres away. “He did not,” you say through a little laugh.

“He did, I swear.”

“I heard him,” Jeonghan confirms with a nod. 

You look at Mingyu, hoping he doesn’t see the way you visibly swallow, still recovering. “You wanna go? Or should I?”

He smiles, so genuinely, then shakes his head. “I’ll go.” He rolls away from you, pulling himself to his feet, and you watch as he and Seokmin walk back towards the house shoulder-to-shoulder. You suppose you should go in as well. It’s late. 

Or maybe you’ll just disappear into the lake out of embarrassment instead. 

After a moment, you lift yourself with a groan, dusting off your ass as you take a few wobbly steps back towards the grass where Jeonghan still stands with his hands in his pockets. When you finally look at him, he has a grin on his face.

“What?”

“Nothin’.”

Your eyes fall shut as you reach him. “Don’t.”

He just chuckles and turns with you to walk back up. 

-

There’s an incredibly quiet knock at the door – so quiet that you stare at it for a minute, unsure whether you actually heard something. You’re in your pajamas, mid-climb into your bed, ready to turn your brain off if it’ll let you, but then you hear it again. A little tap tap of a knuckle against the wood. 

You approach, the floor creaking under you.

His low voice comes through: “Y/N?” 

You crack the door open, and Mingyu’s right there, pressed up close, almost huddled in the doorway, looking at you with round eyes. “I– what are you doing?” you whisper, glancing down the dark hallway.

“Uh.” He smiles a little, and so softly asks: “Can I… come in?”

You nod, letting him in. As soon as you do, he’s turning, pressing you between himself and the door – still controlled, smooth, keeping quiet, but it makes you suck in a breath, his arms wrapping around your waist. 

“I want to kiss you. But I also– need it to, like, mean something so, you gotta help me out here.”

You’re biting your lip again, a buzz coursing through you as you skim your hands up over thick shoulders. The stars inside you are pulling apart. “Gyu…”

He tugs you slightly, his face dipping into your neck, nose tickling along your jaw. “I’ve tried so hard to just be patient. And let you figure out... how you feel? If you feel the way I think you do? God, I need to know, Y/N." He pulls back just enough to give you the most knee-buckling look. "Please tell me you feel it too.”

Even in his disorienting vulnerability, it feels like seduction. So much of him touching you, smelling so good. Intoxicating. Your body feels like it’s melting under him, and with him. 

“I…– It’s not…” This is too hard. How can you really get across how much fear you have bottled up inside of you? Especially when it’s for someone you could fall so hard for. 

He kisses you. You melt into that too. 

“I’m just scared,” you say quietly when he breaks the deep kiss. 

His brows pinch. “Scared of what?”

In the stillness, you try to get your body to calm. “Getting hurt.” It feels like a too-simplistic answer. But you don’t know how else to express it. You hate that you feel shame for someone else’s careless actions.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says with a gentle shake of his head, letting one hand come up to brush a thumb over your jaw. 

“Doesn’t mean that you won’t,” you respond, wincing at your own words. Again, it’s not exactly what you mean to say. You have no reason to believe he’ll hurt you. But you had no reason to believe your ex who told you he loved you for three years would either. “I’m sorry. I just–” Your eyes scrunch shut for a moment. “It’s my own shit, and you deserve way better than having to deal with it.”

“Deal with what? Y/N, I’m so fucking crazy about you,” he says, letting out a little breath of amusement like he can’t quite believe it himself. 

Closing your eyes once more, you turn your head towards his hand, your cheek resting in his slightly rough palm, breathing in. Then you sigh. “My ex and I were going to get engaged. We had looked at rings… The whole thing. Then, out of nowhere, he ended it.” It still makes you feel a little sick, remembering how happy you’d felt. How excited you’d been for your future.

He blinks, cuteness taking over as his brows push down and his lips part slightly. 

“I’m terrified of being blindsided.” You take a breath, lifting to look him right in the eyes. “I… I don’t want to love someone that much and have it ripped away from me again,” you say, feeling a lump in your throat form, your words getting a bit distorted with the slightest hint of a break. “And there’s Marco…–” you start, your lip trembling just a little. The thought of hurting him, not being able to be what he needs, is just ten times worse. “And I adore him. But–.. that’s still a huge thing to take into account.”

He’s listening so closely, his thumb brushing delicately over your cheek. But he doesn’t say anything. Just watches you for a few seconds. Finally, he says, “Look, I can’t promise that… everything will be perfect. But I can promise that I would never blindside you like that. And with Marco–”

“I’m just not ready to put myself in that position. I’m– I’m so sorry,” you say, feeling your body tense. Fuck, this is so shitty. You wouldn’t recover from Mingyu breaking your heart; you just know it. “I really am. I’m sorry.” The lump is back, a bit of wetness threatening at the corners of your eyes, seeping into your lashes. 

His lips push together, his brows contorting above sad eyes. A moment. He pulls away slowly, leaving the front of you surprisingly cold. Both hands come up to brush back over his hair, resting finally around his neck as he steps back and looks away, his jaw twitching a little as though he has something to say but he keeps second-guessing. Finally, he says a quiet: “Ok.”

You let out a long breath, shifting over out of the way when he takes a step back towards the bedroom door. Your chest feels unbearably tight. 

“Goodnight,” he whispers softly. Sweetly. Like he means it. 

That just makes it worse.

-

The drive back the next day is quiet. You don’t feel good. Marco sleeps the whole way. The two of you don’t talk, mutually depending on the radio to fill the space. You don’t know what you could say. You’ve already said sorry. But all that springs to mind beyond that are thoughts of wanting things you can’t have.

When he comes to pick Marco up on Monday afternoon, he keeps it very brief and cordial. Understandable. Still makes you feel sick though. 

Marco is his same adorable self. In fact, you find yourself clinging to the time spent with him at the daycare even more knowing that you won’t be seeing him outside of it anymore.

You go through the motions. A little numb. Tuesday passes, Wednesday passes, Thursday passes, and you realize that the friendship really is over. It has to be – obviously – but wrapping your head around it is astonishingly difficult. 

On Friday, Marco falls. It scares the shit out of you. His head slams back against the floor, and you’re the one who witnesses it, running over to him, holding him as he curls up in your arms, crying, wrapping fully around you.

After a minute of consoling, you manage to peel him back enough to have a look. By then, Ashley is over your shoulder, looking as well, gently feeling the back of his head which took the brunt of the force. 

He’s not bleeding. It wasn’t super hard. But certainly enough to scare him and to really hurt. And enough to warrant further inspection due to it being a head injury. 

“We should take him in. To be sure,” Ashley says as he curls back into your shoulder, arms holding tight around your neck, legs around your hips. You rub a hand soothingly over his back, trying to just breathe, trying not to panic at the sounds of his little sobs against you. He’s ok. You’re sure he’ll be ok. Right?

“I’ll take him,” you say, knowing you’ll be too distracted all day being here and knowing he’s there. 

“Ok, I’ll tell Suzanne. Be right back, Jen,” she says to the other teacher, before heading out the classroom door to the office. 

“Are you ok to call Mr. Kim?” Jen asks from the other side of the room where she’s gathering the rest of the kids for circle time. 

Oh. As if your stomach wasn’t already in a tight enough knot at the feeling of his tears soaking into the collar of your shirt. But you’re trying to be solid. “Yep, got it.” 

You dial his number, swaying with Marco absentmindedly as you hold the phone to your ear and listen to the long rings.

“Hello?”

“I can talk to him,” Ashley says, appearing at your side. “You go.”

“O-oh, ok,” you stutter into the phone, hearing another confused “Hello?” come from the other end just before you pass it over to your coworker. She starts to explain, calm and collected, as you grab Marco’s backpack and sweater from the hooks and head out the door.  

You take the daycare’s car, talking to Marco the whole way in the rearview mirror, distracting him the best you can, seeing if you can get a smile or even a laugh out of him. By the time the ten-minute drive to the urgent care centre is over, you’ve thankfully managed both. 

He’s not crying anymore but he’s still a bit of a sore sight as you unbuckle him from the carseat, seeing the mostly-dried tears on his cheeks and wiping them a little before you take his hand and head inside. 

When you sit, post-check-in, Marco slumps against you, holding tight to your arm. He’s quiet and has completely calmed down, and finally, you have a moment to let out a long shaky breath of tension. You press a hand over his and look down at him just as he looks up at you with big sad eyes. 

Gosh. 

“Come here,” you whisper, tilting your head. He climbs into your lap, head resting against your shoulder, face turning towards your chest. Letting your fingers stroke slowly through the front of his soft hair, you rock a little with him, even though it’s awkward and a bit uncomfortable, his legs long enough that they span onto the next waiting room chair. 

“Y/N?” he says in a tiny voice, prompting you to look down at him curled up in your arms. 

“Mm?”

“I love you,” he mumbles.

You still for just a moment, your heart skipping a beat, then you recover, continuing to gently rock. Suddenly, your eyes are blurry. You lift your head, trying to blink the hot tears away to refocus on the tv screen in your section of the waiting room, but it doesn’t really work. “I, uh…” It comes out frustratingly shaky. You suck in a breath. “Love you too, kiddo.”

And you do. 

You, like, really do. 

-

Mingyu shows up barely fifteen minutes later, barrelling through the automatic doors and scanning the room frantically until he spots you and practically jogs over, skirting around people to get to where you’re standing. 

The nurse has just called for you, giving you a room number to go into to wait for the doctor. 

“Hi,” he greets you quickly, out of breath, before kneeling down in front of Marco, one hand gently reaching for his chin while the other brushes back his hair, feeling along the round of his head. “Where–?”

“The back,” you say quickly, placing your own fingers gently where he’d collided with the floor, finding the bump for yourself before letting Mingyu feel. 

“Hey buddy. How do you feel?” he asks, softer and more high-pitched.

“Head hurts,” Marco says with a little pout. He’s tired, sad, not himself. But you haven’t noticed anything else, nothing that would tell you there’s significant injury. You're definitely less worried now that you've had a bit of time to calm yourself too.

“He’ll be alright, Gyu. A little shaken up but...” you say, every instinct inside of you screaming for you to comfort him.

He looks up at you with eyes full of worry, but doesn’t say anything. Just refocuses on Marco, pulls him in, swiftly stands up with the boy still in his arms.

“Here, they just called his name.” You lead them to room 2 as you explain further, “It’s the daycare’s protocol for us to bring them in for head injuries. But we think it'll be fine.”

“It wasn’t that bad?” Mingyu asks once the three of you are inside, door closed. He turns to look at you, still holding Marco tightly against him, whose cheek rests comfortably onto his dad’s shoulder.

“Other than being in pain and a little upset, he's been totally normal," you offer. “Ashley and I both agreed that it’s probably just a hard bump but best to bring him in just to be sure.”

You want to pull Mingyu into a hug very much. Hold him even. Something comforting. Something loving. But you stop yourself. It’s not the time to confuse you both even more. 

The doctor comes within a few minutes, and after an initial chat and examination, the three of you are left alone again. The doctor too doesn’t seem very worried, putting both of you significantly more at ease, but she agrees that it's best to make sure everything is good when it comes to such a young child. 

You feel stuck. You want to stay. However, you don’t want to intrude or overstay.

After a minute of debating internally then another minute of watching Marco and his dad talk, you stand from your chair, leaving his sweater and little backpack in the seat. “Um, I should probably get back,” you say, stepping a little closer.

They both look up at you. Twins. 

“Oh, right, ok. Um– … Well, thank you.” He gives you the smallest smile, one that’s weighed down with all his concern and all the complication between the two of you. 

You return it as best you can. “Can you… Do you mind texting me when you guys leave? Let me know how it goes?” you ask, hopeful that he won’t think it’s too much. As much as you’re confident Marco is ok, you feel it necessary to know for sure once they have more information. 

Mingyu nods, seemingly a little surprised by the request. “Yeah– yeah, of course.”

“Thanks,” you say, smiling a little more, then you switch your attention to Marco, bending down to be closer to his level and giving his calf a squeeze. Scrunching up your face, you tell him, “I have to go back to the daycare. But your dad’s here and he’s got you now, ok?” He nods. Your hand moves to the top of his head, giving the slightest ruffle to his strands. “I’ll see you soon, bud.”

You stand and turn to go, and Mingyu catches your wrist.  

“Seriously. Thank you,” he emphasizes with a little nod before releasing you.

“Of course.”

-

By the time you get back, there’s only an hour left of the school day. You’re putting up the morning’s artwork on one of the art walls, lost in your mind, when Ashley comes over.

“Once one more goes, you can leave. We’re already down to nine.”

“Me? It’s ok, Ash. You can go.”

“You’ve had a long day. I don’t mind,” she says casually, opening up the attendance binder next to you to write in the time of departure for the kid that just got picked up. 

“Aw.” You look over at her and smile. “Thanks.”

“Did you see Marco’s?” she asks, pointing her pen at the pile of artwork you’ve yet to hang up.

You examine the wall, looking at the names of the ones already up. “Mm, not yet.”

“Look at it.”

You sort through the pile, pulling out the one with his name. The theme for the week is family. A stick figure for Marco. A stick figure for Daddy. A stick figure for Mommy. Grandma. Grandpa. Auntie. 

And on the other side of Daddy: Teacher.

You stare at it.

“I’m guessing that’s you because it doesn’t look like me or Jen,” Ashley says through a chuckle.

The pricking in your eyes comes back. You breathe out a laugh in disbelief. “He told you to write ‘Teacher’?” you confirm, trying to keep your voice steady, neutral. 

“Yeah. It’s so cute,” she says fondly, not even looking over from where she’s watching the kids that are still there as they play. 

You look at it again, feeling all light and floaty underneath the desire to cry once more, because you can’t even process how you feel.

God, you love him so much. You just want to protect him, and take care of him, and be around him all the time. 

You kind of wish he was yours. 

The thought of not being around him anymore when he goes off to kindergarten in two weeks fucking hurts. And the thought of not seeing Mingyu anymore…

Holy shit – what are you doing? 

You love him. You love them. Both of them. Already. 

You’re already doing it! All the stuff you’re terrified of! There’s no point in trying to stop this because you are already way way too far gone. 

You stare at the drawing – until you’re smiling like an idiot, heart racing away once more – before setting it aside from the pile.

You need to see Mingyu.

-

MG: He’s all good! They did a scan to make sure and everything looks fine MG: Thank you for being with him YN: Oh good! Are you guys home now? MG: Yep, just got home

You don’t reply. You don’t want to say anything over text. No, you wait a little bit, just until you’re sure Mingyu has put Marco down to bed. Then you get in your car.

You’re practically shaking as you step onto the driveway, plastic bag with two pints of ice cream in hand. As much as you’ve had time to think about what you might want to say, your brain is still the biggest jumble ever. 

It’s not that you’re not scared now. You are. But Mingyu feels about as safe as anyone could feel. If there’s anyone’s intentions you can trust, it’s him. If there’s anyone who wants something as solid and unabating as you, it's him. 

So, you’re incredibly nervous – and it’s not because you think he’s going to react badly. No, it’s because you feel like he’s going to react well. And you’re not sure you’re totally prepared for what comes after that. You just want it to be perfect. 

It takes him a minute to answer the door after you knock, pulling it open slowly until you have the blessed view of half a naked chest, just a silver chain around his neck, and a grey sweatpant-covered leg. And his beautiful face, of course, which is looking at you now in heavy confusion and surprise. “Y/N?”

“Hi,” you say, suddenly shy, feeling like you’ve had the wind knocked out of you by how extremely gorgeous he looks. “Um…” You hum, feeling yourself flushing as words escape you completely. “Sorry… I wasn’t… No, I–”

He smiles a little, his eyebrows bunching together. 

“I have ice cream?” is what you manage, holding the bag up a little to show him.

“Uh, ok,” he says, letting out an awkward little laugh.

“Was hoping I could come in and…” You gulp. “Have a chat maybe?”

He blinks a few times, mouth opening to speak but it takes a second for anything to come out. “I don’t…” A breath. “Y/N, please don’t make this any harder for me than it already is,” he says, letting his head droop and his voice deflate a bit. 

“No–” you say quietly, stepping closer to the door. “I’m not trying to…”

“I feel like space is probably best,” he tells you, so clearly trying to be gentle.

“Hold on, I… I need to show you something,” you say, reaching into the plastic bag to pull out Marco’s artwork and pass it to him. “He drew this today.”

He’s still watching you, hesitant, for a moment before he looks down at the sheet of construction paper in his hands. His eyes scan the page, then he looks up at you with even rounder eyes. 

“I want this,” you admit with a little hopeful nod. Your heart is hammering as soon as you say it out loud.

His eyes dart down to the picture and back up to your face, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “What?”

“You and me and him.” 

He breathes into a tiny smile, still looking a little stunned. “Are you serious? Like for real?”

“Yeah,” you giggle, unable to handle his cuteness. “If you want it.”

“‘If I want it’?” he echoes in amusement. “The fuck are you talking about ‘if I want it’?” he teases, shooting you a look. He pulls the door open farther, reaching for your wrist, giving you a delicious smile. “Are you coming in or not?”

You laugh, and practically bounce inside. You’ve barely kicked off your shoes, the ice cream and drawing safe on the entrance table, before he’s pulling you to him, wrapping around you, a hand on the back of your head to guide your mouth to his.

"Oh my god," he hums against your lips, not bothering to stop kissing you to express his elation.

He’s so hot and smooth, naked from the waist up, your hands trailing over the bare skin of his broad back. You go into sensory overload immediately, unable to think straight with the way his lips are moving against yours, tireless, needy. 

He groans and, very quickly, you’re against the front door, his body pressing to yours much more forcefully than the last time. He’s so fucking big and heavy, a solid thigh pinning hard between your legs, placing pressure on your core. 

You moan his name into his mouth. For months, you have wanted him like this, day-dreamed about him an embarrassing amount. Now, he’s grinding languidly against you, in sync with the swell and fall of the kiss, making your stomach tighten.

“Shh–shh,” he sounds through a sexy little chuckle, pulling back just far enough to rest his forehead against yours. Then he whispers, “Gotta be quiet.”

You let out a tiny noise of frustration, your thighs tightening around his. “Ah, I just…” you breathe, feeling too dazed to think properly. Of course; Marco is upstairs. You guys can’t just go crazy down here. 

“God, you’re so fucking perfect.”

The words, his voice, the way he’s grazing over your body, back to waist to hips, holding you tighter. It all makes you tingle. “You feel so good,” you tell him, immediately embarrassed by how fucking gone you sound. You’ve barely done anything and you’re already soaked and desperate for him. 

“Can make you feel a lot better than this,” he plays, rolling his hips again. 

You try to muffle your sounds, selfishly using his lips, but it’s not enough when you can now so clearly feel his cock, hard under his sweats, pressing between your legs. 

He breaks the kiss, breathing heavily. “If you want to. Don’t want to rush you.”

You shake your head emphatically, hands gripping hard to his huge arms. “Can we?” You’re genuinely asking. You’ve never been in this position before, with a kid just upstairs. 

He pulls his head back a bit, smiling, a brightness in his eyes. “Why are you so fucking cute?” 

A different kind of heat surges through you, and you smile, looking away, bashful. “Stop,” you whisper.

“I don’t want to stop. You’re so fucking adorable, getting all flustered for me,” he teases, tilting his head to try and capture your gaze. “You gonna be this cute when I’m fucking you?”

The words drop straight to your core, your walls clenching, wetness seeping into your panties. You blink at him, tongue-tied, swallowing down the embarrassing amount of saliva that keeps accumulating. Your heart is still pumping so loud. “Maybe,” you say quietly, mesmerized by the way he bites his lip, the way his eyebrow quirks up a bit.

“Come,” he says, starting to walk backwards, catching both your hands in his until you’re following after him down the hall away from the stairs, eyes still locked on his pretty brown ones. 

“Down here?” you ask shyly as he brings you into the living area, backing up until his calves are meeting the familiar couch.

“Just wanna cuddle,” he says with a teasing smile. “Got a problem?” 

Wait, are you having sex or not? You shake your head, suddenly so nervous. But that’s quickly squashed when he sits, pulling you down on top of him by your hips until you're straddling his thick thighs. Right away, you’re grinding down on him, your hands on either side of his pretty neck as he kisses you deeply. 

“Mm, these are… nice cuddles,” you joke against his lips, feeling the way they turn up into a smile. 

“I’m a good cuddler.”

Your hips swirl over his groin, and you wish you could make your pants disappear. His too. It’s not enough like this, even though you can feel how hard he is – there’s too much in the way. And his hands… They’re skimming over you, your thighs and hips, up to your waist, circling it. But that’s it. Not even dipping under your shirt. Fuck, you need more.

You pull back from his lips, finding them reddened, his hair dishevelled, eyes lust-drunk. “You’re teasing me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m waiting until I’m sure Marco’s fully passed out,” he admits with a smile, head tilted back all sexy against the back of the couch. “I only just put him down right before you came knocking on my door. Saying the best things.”

“Oh,” you say, breathing into a little laugh. 

He blinks at you, expression softening into something so sweet, his hands squeezing your sides gently. “So, can you wait just a little longer? For me?”

You nod, suddenly all giddy, butterflies erupting in your stomach at how gorgeous he is, and how kindly he looks at you, and how unbelievably obsessed you are with him. Your fingers dance over his shoulders, his collarbones, admiring how pretty he is, his gorgeous tan skin, the curves of his solid muscles, the broad thickness of his entire upper body. 

“Like what you see?” he teases, low and breathy. 

“Mhm,” you hum as you find his lips again, letting your tongue brush against his, your fingers curling in his hair as your body, once again, starts to move all on its own. There’s a slippery mess under your layers that’s only getting worse with each low sound he lets out. You would literally pay money to keep hearing him. 

You would certainly get on your knees for him. 

“What if–” you ask between kisses. “I sucked you off?” His grip tightens around your waist, his jaw going a little slack as you suck a little on his bottom lip. “Would that be quiet enough?”

He lets out a little whimper-y groan, head pushing back with his eyes closed. “Y/N,” he whines, nearly all traces of his smugness from a minute ago now gone. Fuck, you like how needy he sounds.

Your hands slip down the front of him, scratching lightly over his chest to his tummy where faint abs become a little more distinct as he contracts them. “Hm?”

“You want to?” he asks, like he actually needs clarification from you, but you just wet your lips and nod. “Fuck,” he sighs out quietly, bringing a hand up to your face so he can brush his thumb over where you just licked, pulling a little at your bottom lip.

After a few seconds, you tilt your head forward slightly, catching the tip of his thumb between your teeth and lightly biting down, keeping your eyes on his gorgeous face. He winces, but it’s evidently not in pain.

Finally, he acquiesces with a nod, adjusting his jaw. He pulls his hand away as you shift backwards, slipping off of him onto the floor between his legs as he spreads them a little wider for you. 

You’ve felt him under you, but until now, you haven’t seen him, so the long thick outline of his cock under his sweatpants makes your breath literally catch in your throat. Your heartbeat pounds from your chest down into your stomach. Shit, he looks really big. 

He spans his arms along the back of the couch, able to reach across so much of it. Oh, right – all of him is big. And like this, he kind of looks like an asshole. Like a fuckboy, ready to have you do all the work. Except he’s not an asshole, not at all, and the way he’s watching you, with desperate eyes, and parted lips… It’s easy to see that you have all the power in this moment. Which is pretty fun. 

You lean over him, ignoring his pants and what’s in them for right now, to reach his tummy, peppering kisses over his abs and his faint treasure trail until you reach his waistband. All you can hear is the quiet humming of the house and his breath as it picks up or catches. 

“Gyu,” you whisper as you tug them down, getting an even better view of what you’re working with once he’s only hidden by his boxers. “This is kind of terrifying.”

He lets out a faint laugh, tinged with his desperation and anticipation. “Don’t say that.”

“Just being honest,” you mumble cutely as you reach for the band of his boxers next, pulling them down and over his cock until they’re also at his ankles. You just look up at him, tilting your head and pressing your lips together in a tiny smirk. 

He smiles wide, but you can see how jittery he is and how his chest is still rising and falling clearly with each breath. 

Keeping your smirk, you lean in, shaking your head a little to tease before you press a kiss to his inner thigh. 

“Y/N,” he breathes. “You’re teasing me now.”

As you glide your palms up his warm thighs, you press another, a little higher, your nose almost grazing the underside of his shaft. “Just trying to figure out how the fuck I’m supposed to fit this in my mouth. Or anywhere,” you say quietly, softly, even with how dirty your words are. 

“Stop being cute,” he sighs, and you glance up to see his head tilted back.

“I’m not being cute,” you contend, unsure where he could possibly be getting that from, and place another kiss, letting your tongue flick out. 

“A little.” He whimpers again, his cock jumping where it stands, pointing up towards his abdomen. 

You’re already literally drooling, perfect for when you finally press a wet open-mouthed kiss at the thick base of his cock. 

A breath rushes out of him, and you flip your gaze up to meet his eyes just as you lick along his length, taking it gingerly in your hand to hold it in place for when you wrap your lips around the tip. You can taste the pre-cum, more of it having beaded out since you pulled down his boxers. 

His eyelids flutter, his arms tense and relax, but he keeps watching you, lips parted, as you make your way along his shaft, leaving it all shiny with spit, quiet hums and groans spilling from him whenever you brush your tongue over the right spot or suck a little harder. 

He’s right though – you are teasing a bit. He just sounds so good, looks so fucking sexy when his face contorts in slight frustration when you don’t yet take him fully into your mouth. You’re kind of curious how long it’ll take for him to guide you onto it. Or beg a little. 

Either way, he’s not getting very far down your throat; you’re pretty sure about that. As much as you wish you could manage it for him.

“Baby,” he breathes, and you seem to notice at the same time as him that that’s the first time he’s called you that, his eyes widening just a little. It makes you warm and fuzzy, a little smile pressing onto your face. 

“Uh-huh?” Moving to suck gently at his balls, you pump your hand over him, using all that drool to your advantage. 

His back arches a little, arm moving so he can thread his fingers into your hair. “Shit, I’m gonna come too soon if you keep doing that.”

That’s not what you were expecting to hear. From a handjob? Fuck, he’s so hot. 

“You can come,” you permiss softly, leaving out any air of authority. 

“But I wanna feel you,” he moans but he’s still gripping into your hair, eyes scrunching closed. 

“Which… do you want more?” you ask through a tiny smirk before opening your mouth a little wider, flicking your tongue a little harder.

“Fuck, I– …” He chokes out a breathy little laugh, pulling your head back an inch, trying to compose himself for a moment. You bite your lip, slowing your hand. “Wh– what do you like? Do you want me to tell you what you’re gonna do?”

You’ve never been asked so outright before, and it’s really cute. “If you want to boss me around, be my guest.”

His free hand catches your wrist to still you, and he smiles, still catching his breath. “Up.”

-

“Not worried anymore?” you ask him in whisper as you trail behind him, your hand in his, towards his bedroom. A room you’ve never even seen inside before. 

“I think we’re good,” Mingyu says distractedly, slipping inside with you and shutting the door quietly behind him. He pulls you to him by the back of the neck, not that you’re resisting in any way, shape or form, immediately meshing against him at the tiniest use of force. “On the bed,” he purrs, letting go of you to shuffle his bottoms back down, stepping fully out of them. 

You listen, reaching for the buttons of your pants as you step back from him, then letting them drop to the floor. Your top comes off just as easily, and then you're climbing onto the large bed, immediately being flipped around by strong arms until you’re caged under him, his lips latching onto your neck. 

He kisses down you slowly, his hands expertly popping your bra open and slinking it off before slipping down your panties until they’re abandoned god knows where as well. Every kiss feels so hot and sumptuous, almost ticklish, like you're extra sensitive to his touch that you’ve only been able to fantasize about. 

It has you squirming, breath catching and shaky, even when he’s just kissing your tummy or nipping at your shoulder. “Fuck, you feel so good,” you moan so quietly, full body arching into his mouth as it ghosts over one of your breasts teasingly, warm breath making you ache.

Just as he places a toe-curling suctioned kiss to your nipple, he dips a hand between your legs. 

“Oh… my… god,” he groans, abandoning his previous focus on your chest to look up at you completely drunkenly.

“What?” you whine, already knowing what he’s about to say because you can feel yourself soaking his fingers as he traces them over your folds. You’re as close to dripping as one can be. 

“All this for me?”

You whap his shoulder and groan, squeezing your eyes shut in mild embarrassment, earning a sexy little chuckle. 

“Shh… You were all worried about taking me. Don’t think you have to be that worried,” he says smugly, returning his wet lips to your nipple. 

“Oh, shut up,” you breathe as your hips roll against his hand, little jolts running through you each time his fingertips brush over your clit or he sucks harder with those perfect pink lips.

“Mmm. So cute, baby,” he teases. But then he sounds a little more serious – hopeful too – when he lifts enough to look into your eyes and asks for real: “Are you my baby?”

You smile softly and nod, pulling him into a hot kiss – enthusiastically returned – before speaking it against his mouth: “I am.”

There’s something else you want to say. It keeps playing in your mind. But you’re not sure you can be the first one to say it. It doesn’t matter though because he’s kissing you deeper, pressing you into the pillow as his fingers explore a little more, teasing at your entrance, finding even more wetness that just makes him groan and grind unconsciously against your thigh. 

He’s so needy too, so hard, a bit of pre-cum dripping off the tip – you can feel the wetness of it getting smeared on your hip. So at least, you know you’re not the only one past gone right now. 

Slowly, he sinks a thick finger in, crooking it just right. Your walls grip him but you’re so turned on that he slides it out and back in so easily, moaning something unintelligible into your mouth. 

You pull him back by his hair, wanting to hear him, and smile when the tug just makes him groan and curse some more. Your lips move to his jaw, your hips lifting as if to get more of him. You barely get the word out in a quiet plea before he’s pushing in with a second finger, stretching you open. 

It’s been a fucking while since you’ve been with anyone. But you literally cannot remember it feeling this good. “Fuck,” you sigh, letting the pleasure ripple over you. His fingers are slow, caressing against your front wall with a ridiculous little squelch every time he pushes all the way in. 

“Goddamn, I can’t wait to feel you. Been thinking about it for too long,” he mutters as he presses his palm against your clit, grinding it against you perfectly with each thrust of his fingers. 

“Oh my god, me too,” you breathe, any filter you once had long gone. “Can you fuck me please? Please, please, please,” you whisper, clenching around his fingers as if to add to your begging. 

“You sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he whispers back after a gratuitous moan.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you say with a nod. You’re so insanely sure. You need him in you now. “Please.”

“It’s really hard to say no to you. Do you know that?” He presses up on a palm to hover over you, giving you the full delicious view of his built arms, wide shoulders, filled out chest, chain dangling down. Fuuuuck. You want to lick him everywhere. 

You nod, biting your lip through a smile. 

He thrusts his fingers in a little harder, a little faster, making you gasp, head tipping back, fingers crumpling the sheets. 

“God,” you whine, arched up to him. 

He takes advantage, dipping his head down to suck a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. 

“Gyu–”

“Sure you don’t want to come first?”

It’s tempting. Very tempting. But something inside of you is yearning for him. It might be that word you’re scared to say. You breathe hard, trying to formulate a sentence as his fingers hit so good. “Want you inside. Please,” you finally gasp out, only able to relax your body when he slows and slips his fingers out of your pussy straight into his mouth. 

“Mmm, fuck. Taste so fucking good, baby,” he groans, finally finding his place between your legs, which immediately part for him, your hand reaching down to loosely take hold of his cock and guide it to your entrance. You’re impatient now, desperate to be filled by him. 

He traps your lips, tasting mildly of you, a gentle hand cupping your jaw, brushing over your cheek. “I should, uh, probably put on a condom right?” he pants when he pulls away, holding his hips back enough even as you lift yours, trying to connect your bodies. 

“Oh, uh…” Protection had not crossed your mind for even a second. Wow, you really are losing your mind over him. “I mean, I’m, like, clean–” you clarify, staring up at him. 

Is that too much? Is that too far? Suggesting that the two of you just fuck raw from the get-go? You’re a little too horny; you want him a little too much. All of him. 

“I mean… me too–” He frowns a little but it’s still one of pleasure and you realize you're still touching him, absentmindedly running your hand along his dripping shaft, but you don’t really want to stop. He goes to say something then visibly swallows instead.

“A-and on birth control,” you get out a second later, realizing that also needs clarification. It’s not like he’d already know that about you, even though you’ve been on it for years. 

He lets out a nervous little chuckle. “R-right,” he breathes. “That’s… important.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle with him, worried that you’ve freaked him out or something.

But then he says: “You almost had me there.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Just me being stupid,” he says bashfully, shifting his weight back onto his heels, and letting his hands drift down your body to your thighs. 

You’re torn between asking what he means and dissolving into a puddle because he’s replaced your grip on his cock with his own and is teasing the dark head over your folds, flicking it over your slippery clit to make your hips twitch. 

He dips in just barely, enough for you to feel how girthy he is against your walls. 

You can’t help the mewl that comes out of you, your legs closing a little at the thick intrusion. But it’s just an automatic response because the size isn’t bothering you yet. Rather, the stretch feels overwhelming in the best way, filling you up little by little as he carefully sinks in.

When he pulls back a bit, cursing, you can see the sheen of your arousal coating the end of his cock. “You feel… so… fucking… good,” he moans, taking a second to watch for himself as he pushes back in before leaning forward to be able to kiss the soft skin between your breasts. 

“Mmh, so do you—” You wrap your arms around him, feeling the heat radiating off of him. “More, Gyu. Please, I can take it,” you whisper, nails raking up his back before settling in his hair.

“You can take it?” he huffs, looking up at you and giving your hard nipple another flick of his tongue. “Fuck, baby.” With that he’s pushing in more, pulling a gasped moan from you. His hand finds its way to your neck but he doesn’t hold any tension in it, just rests it there like a necklace. “You can take it, goddamn…”

“Ah– ahh– I like it. It’s so good, so good–” you babble, now really starting to feel your walls pulsing around him, the first glimmer of an orgasm already starting just at how full you are of him. “Fuck, I love your cock.”

“And I love your dirty mouth, oh my god,” he groans, giving you another slow thrust until he’s sunk all the way, your tight wetness moulding to him.

“Shit, it’s so much.”

Immediately, he pulls back an inch, watching you closely, thumb grazing soothingly back and forth on the side of your neck. “Ok?”

You moan and wrap your legs around him, pulling him back down until you can feel his tip pressing against your cervix. It’s mildly uncomfortable at first but, for some reason, you don’t mind. You just want all of him. You just want to be able to take every inch and let him feel it and be so good for him. 

He grunts as his groin presses flat to you, clearly not having expected the assistance, then you’re pulling him into a kiss, hips waving a little so you can feel his cock shift inside you while you keep him as deep as possible, just grinding him into you. “God, fuck,” he chokes, breaking the kiss as if he’s totally run out of air. “Being so fucking good for me. Taking me so well…”

You look at him with heavy-lidded eyes, moaning again when he tightens his hand a little around your throat. 

“You like being filled up, baby? I’ll fill you up whenever you want, ok?”

Oh shit, you absolutely cannot handle him talking like that, all breathless and confident. 

“I do,” you sigh, your eyes rolling back into your head as he finally starts to move a couple inches, fucking into you deeply with short thrusts.

“Yeah? You like it nice and deep? Feeling me all the way up here?” As he says it, he switches his weight, slipping a hand down to flatten on your lower tummy. 

All of it makes you gasp and squirm. He is so deep, when you tighten around him, you can feel him all the way up – so full. And the grip he has on you is just sinking you farther into submission, ready to receive, ready to do whatever he wants. 

“Want me to come for you nice and deep too?” he asks, voice so low and soft, it’s like he can barely get it out, like the words make him as crazy as they make you. 

The sound you make isn’t words but it is obvious confirmation of how much you want it. The sensation, the slick drag inside you, is so much, you can feel your high floating within reach. 

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he whispers, pulling out a little more before sinking back in, nudging that soft spot inside of you as he goes. The hand on your tummy slides down further to brush over your clit.

“Mmh!” Your head is tilting back, the rest of your body moving unconsciously with his touches. It’s so much. It’s so so much. You wanna die, it feels so good. 

He rubs harder, fingertips moving in slippery circles. “So fucking tight around me, Jesus–”

“Gyu–” you moan but it barely comes out because he’s fucking you faster, all the build-up paying off as the sudden intensity sends you crashing into your orgasm, back arching almost painfully as you cry out. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck–” 

He carries you through it, loosening the hold on your throat but maintaining his consistent thrusts until your balling in on yourself, thighs closing around him, hands reaching for his neck to pull him down to you. 

Your messy muffled moans slow, lips turning up when he pulls from the kiss and smiles affectionately down at you. So damn gorgeous that you still can’t believe that he’s the one that just made you come. 

His chest is heaving too, his gaze trailing from your face to your neck where he’s caressing much more lightly now, letting his fingers slowly trace down over your collarbone. 

You tug him closer again, prompting him to switch onto his elbows, nice and close as you wrap around him with your whole body.

“I’m so fucking happy right now,” he says into your ear before kissing right next to it. 

A quiet giggle bubbles out of you. “You haven’t even come yet.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” he plays back, still focused on the kisses he’s placing down your jaw.

Turning your head away, you let out a sighed little moan, feeling your body still throbbing around him juxtaposed against the soft sensual brushes of his lips. They don’t stay soft for very long, turning to hot licks and sucks once he reaches your neck, making you whine and shiver, fingers lacing in his hair.

“Fuck, you’re insane,” you breathe.

“Why?” he asks curiously, licking at your nipple before he takes as much of your breast in his mouth as he can and hums a moan at the way you clench around him. 

“Just– ahhh… Just feel so good. Touch me so good.”

“Mm, good, baby,” he says, looking mighty pleased with himself as he squeezes your breasts in his huge hands, giving the nipple a little pinch. “Can I keep going?”

You clench again unconsciously; he’s rock hard, still raring to go. And you can see it now when he looks at you, the desperation, the neediness in the question.

“Please do,” you say with a nod. 

“Can I flip you over?”

You let out a soft little laugh, holding his face in your hands, feeling the desire to squish his cheeks with how damn sweet he is. “So polite.”

“You said I could boss you around,” he reminds, planting a quick kiss on you before he’s lifting away and sitting back on his knees. “Didn’t say I could throw you around.”

“Well, consider this permission,” you say as you roll carefully to one side so you can switch onto your elbows and knees. 

As soon as you do, he’s maneuvering you, closing your legs and flattening you down on the mattress so he can straddle you. 

“Oh,” you breathe, intrigued by the feeling of his thick thighs hugging the back of yours. “This where you want me?”

“It’s where I put you, isn’t it?” 

“So sassy now,” you tease through a grin, trying your best to look up at him over your shoulder. He’s got his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, and you can feel his cock resting heavy against your ass, wetting your cheeks with your own arousal as he rolls his hips forward a few slow times. 

“Just a little,” he murmurs, focused more on teasing the head of his cock at your entrance every time it dips down between your legs. But really, he’s teasing himself at this point, letting out a quiet groan every time it breaches. 

You try to push your hips up a bit – the angle currently seems impossible. How is he going to get all of that in you with your legs nearly closed? 

Finally, he presses in, shifting so he’s suspended on palms placed by your waist, fucking his cock down into you, spreading your walls. He feels fucking massive. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, pressing your forehead into the bed, hands fisting into sheets.

He doesn’t go as slow now, sinking into you a little harder, a little faster each time, slick sounds of wet skin against skin all you can hear over his breaths and pretty moans. “Feels good like that?”

“So fucking good,” you manage to get out with a nod. “Fuck, unhh–”

When he moans again, it’s more like a whimper, his words coming out shaky: “Baby, you’re squeezing me so tight…” He’s hitting into you harder, the pounding reverberating into your clit from inside. 

You’re so full of him, it’s overwhelming, your body tensing more, lower tummy tingling – you couldn’t stop your climax if you tried. 

He doesn’t let up even a bit, pounding down into you.

“Gyu, I’m–”

“Shit, I’m gonna come.” One hand finds your shoulder for leverage, his hips moving faster. “Can I–”

“Yes, fuck–” is the last thing that comes out of your mouth before you’re clamping down on him and sailing over the edge, face buried into the sheets to try and contain your euphoric moans. 

Mingyu tries to hold on but within a few more seconds, he’s letting out a strained groan as he releases, following through on his promise to come nice and deep by pushing in all the way, stuffing you full of him as you writhe, trapped underneath. He’s moaning more, muffling it with the back of your shoulder as he leans down, lazier thrusts helping both of you ride out your highs. 

“Mmm,” you hum, voice cracking a little as you finally go limp. A hand is placed over yours, fingers interlocking, then the other one too, more kisses being pressed against your back. 

“So fucking good,” he mumbles against your skin before slowly lifting up, shifting his weight around so he can gently withdraw from you. “Don’t wanna crush you.”

You let out the softest giggle before sighing. “Holy shit…”

Instead of rolling off you, he hovers over top, kissing down your spine, apparently completely unfazed by the slight dewiness of your skin. You just relax as your body comes down from the rush, enjoying the treatment, praying you won’t open your eyes to find this all a dream. 

His chest brushes over your ass then he lets out a little groan of satisfaction and lightly bites one of your cheeks. 

“What are you doing?” you breathe into a laugh.

“Appreciating.” He kisses where he bit then does the same on the other side, using his hands to give them a little wiggle and squeeze. 

“Mm, ok,” you say sleepily, smiling as you close your eyes and nuzzle into the bed. “I’ll just be here. Taking a nap.”

Another good squeeze and then he’s moving to lay beside you, shifting the mattress as he goes. You peek an eye open, seeing him facing you.

“Are you gonna… sleep over?” he asks with a surprising amount of innocence.

“Do you want me to?”

“So so so much.”

You lift up to kiss him, warm and slow and sweet. “What about, um… Marco though?” you ask quietly, remembering there’ll be someone else up early. 

“Hm,” he sounds, biting at his lip a little, then he looks right in your eyes. “I think he already understands that you’re special to me.”

Your smile is wide, heart skipping. You’re somehow still never expecting him to be as adorable as he is. “So, it’s ok… If he sees me here in the morning?”

“It’s ok, yeah,” he chuckles before immediately starting to shake his head. “I already know how excited he’s going to be. He was talking about you today after you left, asking why you had to go. Granted, I wasn’t really in the best place to be hearing about how much he loves you at that point, but…” 

You give him a little sympathetic look, but it’s still hard to hide your fond smile at the way he rolls his eyes the slightest bit. “I’m sorry.”

“Not necessary,” he says, scooting closer, wrapping a big warm arm around you so you’re squished to him. “Everything is good in the world now.”

“Oh really?” you tease, rolling a bit so you can kiss his shoulder, finally able to do so just because you want to.

“Don’t you think?”

You nod, smiling against his skin.

-

“Fuck, you’re cute.”

You laugh in disbelief at how long his t-shirt and sweats are on you. “They’re a little big.”

He chuckles with you, stepping closer, tilting his head like you would at the most adorable puppy. “Sure… a little,” he agrees amusedly. “How tired are you?”

“I’m tired. But I don’t want to sleep.”

“Let’s go down. Have a snack,” he offers right away, slipping a hand into yours. 

He leads you downstairs, where the two of you quickly notice the plastic bag by the door, housing the ice cream that you had brought then forgotten about. Still, it doesn’t stop you; a minute later you’re curled up on the couch together with two spoons and a pint of half-melted mess being shared between you. 

“I’m sorry but you are not close enough.”

You laugh, hopping over onto his cushion until your leg is literally rested over his, your arm pressed against him. “Better?”

“Good enough for now.”

“Is this how it’s going to be?” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him.

“I’ll be better behaved around other people, I promise.”

“Ah, good call,” you say with a nod before scooping another bite into your mouth. 

“Do you even understand how hard it was not to cuddle you all the times you’ve been on this couch?” he asks. 

Your eyes widen at him, hurrying to swallow the cold in your throat before you say: “Uh, yes. What – you think I was just immune?”

He giggles, shaking his head. “I don’t think it was killing you like it was killing me.”

“Hey, I was ready to fully jump on you that night you kissed me.”

He smiles over at you as if remembering it vividly. “But you didn’t.”

You watch him for a moment, licking the sweetness off your lips. “I was trying to be good.”

He frowns a little. “You’re always good.”

“Yeah, well, I fell in love with you anyway so…” you say a bit flippantly, not really realizing what just came out of your mouth until you see his face brighten, his smile widening until his canines are poking out. You feel yourself flush, smiling nervously. “Uh…”

He leans in, abandoning his spoon in the ice cream container you’re holding so that he can catch your face in soft hands and guide your mouth to his. “I love you,” he says quietly, before correcting: “I’ve been loving you.”

“Yeah?” you say before kissing him again – you might be shaking a little. You had thought maybe you could see it in his eyes. Hearing it is way way better. 

“Mhm,” he hums into the kiss. “Since the beach.”

“The beach?” You pull back to look at him.

He nods, getting all cute, taking the ice cream from who, though he doesn’t actually eat any. “I mean, that’s when I, like… actually realized.”

Almost a month ago.

“This is gonna sound kind of silly but… Seeing you with him. Like, excited to talk to him and play with him… I don’t know how to explain it but it means a lot to me.”

You listen, letting your head rest against the back of the couch, unable to help your soft smile and that good good feeling in your chest.

“Like, someone loving my kid, the most important thing in my life, so genuinely. Without any… pressure or need to.” He shakes his head, clearly feeling a little silly, not even meeting your eyes. “I don’t know, something about that is kind of healing for me, I guess.”

By the time he’s finished his eyes are shiny. You see it even though he’s trying to blink it away, looking down with an embarrassed smile. 

“Ah, sorry, I don’t– I don’t know why this is happening,” he says through a chuckle, still blinking rapidly. He smiles wider, clearly trying to offset the tears and the slight quiver in his voice that the both of you heard.

You smile too, caressing his cheek gently before kissing him. 

Maybe he too needs his heart held softly.

-

“Hey, I have a question,” you say as you climb back onto the bed, still cozy in the huge clothes that smell like Mingyu.

“And what would that be?” He’s laying on his stomach, focused on his phone as he sets an alarm. 

Propped up on one elbow, you let a hand glide down his back side, settling on his ass. Mm. “What did you mean when… you said you were ‘just being stupid’?” There’s only really one thing that you can guess, and it feels entirely necessary to tease him about it. 

“Hm? … What do you mean?”

“You said something about being stupid.” You give his cheek a little squeeze, enjoying how round and squishy it is. Peach, indeed. “Right before we…”

He looks up from his phone, less distracted, but doesn’t answer. 

“We were talking about protection…?”

“Oh.” He lets out an awkward laugh. “Uh, I don’t know.” It’s light, like he’s trying to lie but not that hard. 

You lean into him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “What were you being stupid about?”

He stays quiet for a few seconds.

“Okaay, never mind,” you say through a little chuckle, shifting to lie down fully on the pillow. “You don’t have to tell me.”

He drops his phone onto the nightstand and rolls towards you, giving you a disgruntled pout. 

You kiss it, letting your fingers tangle together with his under the covers. “It’s fine, I’m just bugging.”

“It made me think about having a baby with you, ok?” he admits begrudgingly.

You smirk just a little, both happy with your teasing and giddy at the admission. 

“But I’m trying not to say shit like that so I don’t scare you away. I literally just got you.”

“You realize that’s not the scary part for me, right? The scary part is us not getting there. This falling apart. You… leaving.”

“Right,” he says softly, looking at you much more earnestly now. “Ok.” He slides a leg over yours, hauling you closer to him, sliding a thick arm under your neck to become your pillow. “Well, that’s not going to happen, so. On a scale of one to ten… how much does that idea freak you out?”

“Us having a baby together?”

“Yeah.”

“Like… one?” you say, smiling shyly at his surprised reaction, his eyes widening cartoonishly. “Don’t look at me like that! I want to be a mom… I always have!” you defend, shoving him slightly though he doesn’t even sway an inch. 

“Damn, one out of ten?” he continues to tease. “We literally just got together, Y/N.”

“Stop!” you shush him through your annoyed laughter, unable to help the embarrassment flooding you. You quickly let go of his hand to cover his mouth semi-aggressively with your palm, shutting him up. 

He just giggles, fighting to get your hand back in his and easily winning. Then he presses a warm kiss to your mouth instead, pacifying you almost instantaneously, both of you humming in satisfaction. 

“Ok.” He cuddles you back into him, head on his pillow-y chest and everything. You can hear the big smile in his voice as he says, “Very good to know.”

A/N: i truly did not expect the response to this that the first part got so i really hope this lives up to the hopes and expectations lol. as always, please let me know your thoughts! i think some of you love this couple as much as i do haha. thank you for reading!! :D

Tag List: @theharrowing @here4kpopfics @the-boy-meets-evil

-

Please reblog my work if you enjoyed it ❤️ Thank you!

Masterlist

oh god i’m rooting for them so bad 😭😭 it must hurt oc so much seeing what she wished she had through other people 🥹 and the line about her cousin fearing ending up like her ?! and thinking about seeing jimin with a pregnant wife eventually as well ???!!! I WAS HURTING !!!!!! i love this series already, you write so well author i feel ~everything~

thank god jungkook is the best boy!!!!! realize ur feelings soon pls 😫😫

drabble series # 1 - the five-year plan

the five-year plan . eight | jjk

you’ve always had a very strict life plan. when you were twenty you sat down and made your five-year plan, you would get married, get your dream house, have your dream career and then at the end of those five years you’d have a kid. everything was going perfectly to plan, well until your husband came home with divorce papers. now you’re somehow trying to stay on track, maybe you could convince your best friend to have a baby with you?

summary: the one where you're upset and jungkook is here to help.

pairing: best friend!jungkook x reader. general warning/tags for the series: non-idol!au, reader just got divorced, idiots to lovers, slow burn, unprotected sex, ovulation horny, iykyk, family drama, in law drama, ex-husband drama, just drama all around, domestic fluff, we didn’t know that we were in a relationship, co-parenting, dramatic confessions, more tags to come. wc: 2k author’s note: this chapter was brought to you by tomboy by hyukoh bc i fell in love with it again and listed to it for three hours straight,, can you tell i have adhd? fhdjsskksksks i was gonna make them fuck this part, but i did have to go to work soooo, unfortunately, still no more baby making. me: let's take a break 🥺 my brain: hahaha sure bud, so same time tomorrow? :))))

main masterlist | series masterlist | taglist

choose what happens next ! (poll active until oct. 8th)

randomusername: it's a boy! 💙

Your cousin's smile almost seems to mock you as you stare down at your phone screen.

Her smile is wide, all of her teeth on display and not even a smudge of lipstick on her teeth, not a hair out of place, her eyes are teary in the way that beauty pageant queens are. She looks so excited, she's so happy, she's glowing. Hand proudly holding her baby bump, she looks like she'll pop any day, even then she looks absolutely gorgeous in the dress she's wearing, the diamonds in her wedding ring shining like a star against the dark navy of her dress.

Her husband is at her side looking just as excited for the world, for their future, for their son. He has a hand holding her by the waist, placing a kiss to her temple, a proud look in his eyes. You remember when you and Jimin looked like that, like you were each other's everything.

You remember when you thought that you and Jimin would end up like that. Pregnant and excited about it — even if it was just a happy accident, you'd both be so unbearably happy that everyone around you would be able to see it, to feel it. 

But instead here you are, divorced and not pregnant.

You just continue to stare at the photo, and you feel the emotions in you twist into something even more ugly. You know you should feel happy for her, you really want to feel happy for her. She had married her childhood sweetheart, moved out of your small hometown, and now they were expecting their first kid — she did everything right, everything you had wanted to do and actually managed to pull it off.

You wonder bitterly if they'll fall out of love, if she'll wake up one day and realize she's in a loveless marriage and go about her day like nothing changed. You wonder if they'll give up, have no desire to fix their marriage, let it sit on the back burner until her husband finds someone else to love— someone better than her.

You stare at the photo a little longer, you wonder if you would have been her if you had done things differently. If you had tried to save your marriage, if you fought a little harder. If you tried to fall in love again. You can't help but wonder if Jimin has fallen in love again, if that girl he had met managed to keep his attention or if she was doomed to have a fate just like you. What if she didn't? What if you were the problem and soon you'd have to worry about accidentally seeing a picture of Jimin like this, with another women in his arms, happily pregnant and hoping for the whole world.

Your thumb mindlessly double clicks on the photo giving it a like before typing out a generic congratulations. Every word feels like a knife cutting into your skin, you wonder if she'll see your blood in the comments, if she'll know that you don't really mean it. You wonder if she looks at you with pity, with embarrassment, with mirth. Or maybe she looks at you in fear, that she fears that she'll end up just like you.

'Congrats you two! I'm so excited for you! I'm sure he'll be beautiful. Can't wait to meet him. 🩵🩵🩵'

You close out instagram as soon as you hit send, your fingers habitually pulling up a text conversation without any thought. You type out a quick message and hit send before you could even think not to.

Bubs 🌷: come over.

Jeon 🐰: I'm kinda busy rn, everything okay?

Bubs 🌷: i'm bored.

Jeon 🐰: Sounds like a personal problem

Bubs 🌷: 🥺

Jeon 🐰: I'll be there in 10.

Bubs 🌷: bring something sweet !!!

Jeon 🐰: 👍👍👍👍

“So,” Jungkook drawls out the word, staring at you pointedly, “you wanna tell me why you're sad?”

You shake your head and pop another chocolate into your mouth, letting out a pleased hum as it melts on to your tongue.

“I'm not sad.” You answer, you try to ignore how petulant your tone is. You weren't effected by that, you really weren't. And Jungkook is stupid for thinking that you're upset.

“Hmmm,” He hums in response, reaching over to steal one of your candies, you give him a dirty look and pull them closer to your chest. “Right, okay, so you're not upset at all?”

“Nope.”

“So you won't care if I leave?” He challenges, a brow raised in question.

“Nope, go for it. You've already given me candy so what more do I need you for.” You're lying through your teeth, and you both know it. As much as you'd hate to admit it, you've always used Jungkook as a crutch when you were upset, unless it was at him — then you'd bitch and moan to Jimin until he forced the two of you to make up, he was usually hearing it from both sides and you used to wonder if he regretted introducing the two of you.

Jungkook slowly raises himself from the couch, staring you down the whole time waiting for you to even let out the slightest of reactions, you just stare back, your gazes completely locked. At this point it had turned into a battle of wills and neither of you were losing this fight. He takes one step back, towards the door and you must show the smallest of reactions because as if he saw just what he was looking for he starts walking towards you scooping you up in his arms.

“Jungkook!” You squeak out, the candy you were holding clutched tightly in your hands thankfully not spilling out everywhere on the floor.

He carries you to your bedroom and gently places you down on your bed. You stare at him curiously as he flutters around your room seemingly on a mission.

"Ahh.” He says excitedly when he finds what he'd apparently been looking for, and next thing you know he's putting your favorite studio ghibli film's disc in your gaming system.

He's stepping out of the room and you try to ignore the way you feel the sudden weight of your sadness again. You hadn't realized how much just having him near was keeping it at bay.

He comes back shortly with the extra blankets you keep stored away, dropping them down at the foot of your bed before leaving again.

This time when he comes back with a bowl of popcorn you're already wrapped tightly in the blankets anxiously awaiting for him to return.

He sets the bowl on the bedside table and climbs into bed with you, he pulls you into his arms and you find yourself relaxing instantly

He places a kiss to your forehead and starts the movie.

You're crying, this movie always makes you cry but this time it's more than just a few tears. Gut wrenching sobs leave your mouth, body shaking with the force of them as you hold onto Jungkook for dear life.

You're not even crying over the film anymore, it had just been the catalyst for you to let your emotions out. Your hands clenched tightly into Jungkook's shirt and face buried in his chest you let yourself finally cry. Cry about all the things you'd been avoiding feeling for the last while.

You cry over the negative pregnancy test, you cry over your cousin, you cry over Jimin, you cry over Jungkook, you cry over the mug you chipped, you cry over things that happened at work, you cry over your future. You just let it all out.

Jungkook just holds you through it, rubbing soothing circles into your back.

“Bubs, you're breaking my heart.” He says tenderly, placing a kiss to the top of your head. “Will you please tell me what's going on?”

You nod, trying to stop the sobs enough to speak.

You're down to little sniffles when you finally speak, “_____'s pregnant.”

“Oh?” Jungkook questions, wiping tears from your face with the pads of his thumbs.

You nod up at him, “They're having a boy.”

You know he's still confused as to why that would make you cry like someone had died but he just goes along with you like he usually does.

“Hmm.” He hums in response, “That's … unfortunate?”

You can't help the smile that forms on your face, he's such an idiot.

“No it's not,” You say with a small laugh, that edges too close to another sob when the next words leave your mouth, “I'm really happy for her.”

“It doesn't sound …” He says cautiously, like he's not sure if he should say it or not, “like you're happy for her.”

“Because I'm also not.” The words come out in a rush, one coming after another practically chasing after the other, ”Because that was supposed to be me. I was supposed to be pregnant and married and happy and in love.”

He makes an understanding noise, thumbs now just tracing lines on your cheeks, “You will be.” The words come out like he didn't mean to say them, his eyes going wide and then staring at you accusingly like you were the ones to say them.

“I mean, you will be. You'll be happy again.” He corrects himself, “Today is just a bad day. Sometimes the hurt just gets a little loud but you will be happy again. I can't promise you the rest, but I'll definitely try. I'll be here to make you happy when you don't think you can be anymore, Okay?”

He nods at you, and as he holds your face he forces your head to nod along, and your lips pull into a smile.

“And if she's having a son we'll just have to have two.” He says determinedly, Jungkook always the most competitive, “We can't have anyone showing us up right?”

You can't help but laugh, he's such an idiot.

“I thought the deal was one baby.” You joke, eyes fond and your voice sounding far too soft around the edges.

“Nah,” He responds softly, “We need at least three, hmmm,” He thinks about it for a second, then clicks his tongue when he decides, “maybe seven.”

“Seven?” You ask incredulously, eyes going wide, and your jaw dropping.

“Yeah, they can start an idol group.” He insists, “Seven is the best number for that.”

Full body laughter shakes it way through you the same way your sobs had been earlier and Jungkook gives you a breathtaking smile.

“Oh I feel bad for the poor girl who ends up with you, she can absolutely provide you with the rest, you're getting one from me at most.” You say eyes full of mirth, grin still wide. And then, because you think about your future kids, you quickly correct yourself, “Hmm, maybe two.”

You don't notice the way that his smile falters a little, he too quickly covers it up with a petulant pout and the dramatic shake of his head.

He lets out a stream of no's shaking his head all the while, before firmly insisting, “Seven.”

You snort, “We haven't even had the first one yet and you're already insisting on six more?” Your words are laced with humor, “There's only so much time.”

He laughs along with you, and then sobers up and gives you a mockingly serious nod.

“You're right, we've definitely got to get to work.” He's joking, you're sure he's joking but the next thing you know his lips are on yours. Hands framing your face, leaving teasing pecks on your lips, “We've got babies to make, bubs. Very serious business, you know.”

The kiss turns deep, Jungkook's lips are soft against yours, you can taste the buttery popcorn on his lips and another taste that has you pulling away and blinking slow.

“Did you steal my chapstick?” You ask curiously, the moment gone just as quickly as it was there.

His eyes are wide, looking every bit like he was caught red-handed, “…No.”

— tags are in the reblogs 🤍

THIS YOONGI WAS SO HOT. so confident and can hold his own against oc’s brother!! but he was also so sweet calling her sweetheart holding her hand buying her the slushee 🥹🥹 and HARLOW?? I LOVE HER. oc’s also hot as fuck i hope her and yoongi have a good time breaking in his condo 🥴

cybersex | myg

The whole point of being a phone sex hotline operator is that you’ll never have to meet your clients. So what are you supposed to do when you find out your favorite client is your brother’s best friend? 

» pairing: yoongi x fem!reader 

»wc/date: 14.6k | July 2022

» genre: BTS | 18+ | brother’s best friend | smut | fluff | humor

»warnings: alcohol | blowjob | car sex | creampie | dirty talk | fingering | masturbation | pet names | phone sex | pussy slapping | sex work | unprotected vaginal sex

»notes: idk what’s up with me and writing yoongi in sex work-themed fics but uhhhh here you go?? alsopls don’t judge me for not knowing how to write good dirty talk 🥴

» masterlist | ao3 | join my taglist

»what was jai listening to?  agust d - agust d  // cyber sex - doja cat

It all started with a bottle of vodka and a Twilight drinking game. You were pretty good at holding your liquor, so you didn’t expect the night to end up with you passed out on the floor of your living room, your roommate using your butt as a pillow. 

The mixed drink Harlow prepared for the two of you wasn’t half bad. Clearly, her time in bartending school had paid off, even though she never actually got a job as a bartender. Now the knowledge was merely a perk and the promise of a fun time. So sipping the fruity vodka cocktail was easy, but you hadn’t anticipated just how many times you would need to take a drink for every time Edward did something creepy that Bella found romantic, or when the CGI effects for vampires running were absolutely shit. Even every time a vampire hissed was a drinking rule that had you feeling woozy only a quarter of the way into the movie. 

Keep reading

the, progressive, sex positive, monogamous, comfortable in his own skin, going to do whatever the fuck he wants when he wants with no guilt or shame, authentic, jungkook era that he is in right now is a blessing to witness.

2013/2023 - nothing changed...♡ | for @sopekooks

oh my god i loved this so much i didn’t doubt mingyu from the beginning!!!!!! this was so hot and sweet at the same time 🥹🥹 I WANT A LOVE LIKE THIS! thank you for sharing this author! i will definitely be reading more from you <3333

kim mingyu’s (unhelpful) guide to losing your virginity

❝ you’re telling me that you, Miss Dick Repellent, had sex with Captain Chastity By Choice over here. ❞

PAIRING ▸ kim mingyu x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, humor, college au, best friends to lovers au, friends with benefits au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, alcohol consumption, rated m for mingyu, slow burn, he fell first but she fell harder but then he tripped and ate shit, probably the most self-indulgent thing i’ve written, mingyu and mc are both virgins, sexual content, sexual tension, protected and unprotected sex (i would not advise doing the latter), lots of teasing and banter, oral (f. and m. receiving), fingering, wall sex, couch sex, public sex, mingyu discovers what pasties are, soonyoung orders 20 connect fours, they are avid enjoyers of the barbie movies

SUMMARY ▸ after accidentally telling your friends that kim mingyu took your virginity (he didn’t), you’re shocked when he proposes to relieve you of the fabled v-card for good (he does).

PLAYLIST ▸ perfect by one direction • spell by niki • fatal flaw by ellise • give me a kiss by lolo zouaï • step? by bibi

WORD COUNT ▸ 31,273 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ someone (fia) once told me i write too many college aus. i said yeah ur right. and i’m gonna do it again

“BIRDS AND BEES CANNOT PHYSICALLY FUCK.”

You sounded more distressed than informative while you were trying to reason with your longtime best friend, Kim Mingyu. He, on the other hand, appeared visibly worked up over this childish level of argument you two were having.

“It is a metaphor,” he said. “Everyone knows birds and bees aren’t screwing each other up in the trees.”

You still couldn’t wrap your head around it. Hours ago, you had fucked yourself over after Kwon Soonyoung had casually brought up the topic of body counts. After everyone in your friend group went around listing theirs (Soonyoung: 3; Jungwoo: 3; Minghao: 2; Vernon: 5), you accidentally blurted out that your body count actually existed—one, to be exact.

This was a problem because, to everyone’s prior knowledge, you were a virgin.

Keep reading

Nightcall

Yoongi's never been anything but honest with you. He's not looking for a relationship. It's too bad that you've been in love with him since you met him.

Pairing: Yoongi x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Non-idol AU, angst, smut

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, emotional unavailability

Yoongi’s bare ass flashes past you, pale as the rest of him, as he steps into the shower. You avert your eyes so he doesn’t catch you looking as he turns.

You brush your teeth and pat serum onto your face. You’re always conscious of your skin, sometimes you hate the way you look, barefaced.

Yoongi showers in silence, steam fogging up the glass partition separating you.

You’re moving before you give yourself a chance to second-guess yourself, stepping behind the glass with him.

The surprise in his eyes nearly makes you lose your nerve, but he’s quick to rally.

His hand closes around your arm, and he pulls you into a kiss. He tastes minty, fresh. He cups your breast, touching, squeezing. The weight of his cock brushes against your belly as you lean into him.

‘Yoongi,’ you sigh.

He pushes you against the marble-tiled wall, his body insistent against yours, the hardness of him making you breathless.

‘Turn,’ he grunts, hands already on your hips spinning you around. He drags your hips back, pushing down on the curve of your spine, positioning you for him.

You’re not quite wet enough when he enters you, but Yoongi knows how to get you there.

He cups your breasts, litters your back with kisses, thrusting shallowly until you’re slick enough that he can glide into you.

‘Fuck,’ he pants. He’s moving fast, hard, you don’t think you’ll have time to cum and you’re right.

Yoongi groans as he spills himself into you, arms tightening around you, holding you.

It’s the best you’ve felt in a long time.

Then, too soon, he’s pulling away, rinsing himself off.

He barely looks at you before he steps out of the shower, leaving the water running.

You stand in the shower longer than you need to, trying to compose yourself, and by the time you come out he’s fully dressed.

You spend time on your makeup, put on the work clothes you brought with you the night before when you came over, and pack your things.

You’re stepping out of his bedroom, heading for the door, when he calls out after you.

‘Do you want a drink or anything?’

You’re thirsty, but you want to go before your feelings catch up with you.

Yoongi’s quick when he wants to be. He’s crossing the living room, handing you a glass of juice, watching you gulp it down.

You hoist your overnight bag over your shoulder.

‘Bye,’ you say.

You risk a glance at him.

He’s looking at you like he cares, and your resolve wavers dangerously.

You leave, closing the door behind you, walking quickly because the greater the distance you put between yourself and Min Yoongi, the better.

***

Min Yoongi is honest to a fault. He said from the first time you fucked that a physical relationship was all he was prepared to offer you. He told you not to expect to meet his friends, to be taken out on dates, to even think about romantic gestures.

You make casual conversation but he doesn’t ask you anymore about your dreams, your feelings. He asks you about work but he doesn’t probe.

He’s never asked you when your birthday is.

If he notices that your phone is constantly lighting up today, he doesn’t say. You’ve put it on silent but your friends are chatting about what a great time they had with you this evening at your birthday dinner, before you left to meet Yoongi.

The joint present they got you is tucked in your handbag, and if Yoongi notices the pale pink wrapped box, he doesn’t say.

He’s sliding his hand up your thigh as he kisses you, making the red silk of your dress ride up.

He’s a good kisser, firm but not insistent, letting you set the pace. Kissing him has always been your favourite part, because he holds you, really holds you, when you kiss.

It makes you feel like he’s there, it helps you pretend that he really cares.

Yoongi tugs at the tie holding your dress together, unwrapping you, smiling at you as he sees your matching lingerie.

‘So pretty,’ he says. His voice gets so deep when you’re together like this, sometimes you can barely make the words out but you love the sound of it.

Yoongi’s sucking at your tits in that way he knows you like, getting you slick and sticky for him so that by the time he enters you, you’re humming with pleasure.

He doesn’t take long to make you cum, he may not know where you work now but he knows how to make you arch your back for him, how to make you cry out his name.

You’re breathing hard still, coming down from your high when he gets up off you, leaning back on the couch he’s just fucked you on.

Sometimes he holds you after you have sex, and those are your favourite times because God knows, you’ve been in love with him almost since you met him.

You feel a pang in your chest because you know you deserve more than this. You would have loved to have him hold you for a while, today.  

You’re automatically straightening your clothes, putting your shoes back on, picking up your bag to go. The ridiculously cheesy birthday card your friends got you falls out of your bag as you pick it up, and Yoongi picks it up, handing it back to you.

His expression is impassive, you don’t know what he’s thinking.

You tuck it into your bag and force a smile.

‘See you later, Yoongi.’

‘You’re not staying?’ he asks.

‘Oh, I have an early start tomorrow,’ you lie. It’s true, but the main reason you’re not staying is that leaving in the morning is harder than leaving him the night of.

Spending the night in bed with him makes you want things he’s not prepared to give you.

You’re the one blurring the lines, because Yoongi’s always been clear with you.

‘Happy birthday,’ he says.

You smile at him, easy. ‘Thanks.’

‘Why don’t you wait up here for the taxi?’ he asks.

‘Oh, it’ll be here soon, don’t worry,’ you say.

He doesn’t tend to walk you out, so you’re surprised when he gets redressed, shoving his feet into slides, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head.

He waits with you for the taxi, waves as you’re driven away.

It’s not the worst end to your birthday.

***

Your best friend, Lia, doesn’t understand why you’re so caught up with Yoongi, but she loves you so much she doesn’t make you feel less because of it.

Yoongi had a girlfriend when you met him, a woman he’d been dating seriously for a while. He’d made it clear from the beginning that he was a taken man, and you hadn’t befriended him with any intention or expectation of anything more.

He’d been funny, irreverent, honest. You’d hung out at the park a few times because you were both trying to get into running. The running thing had petered out quickly, but then you’d started getting coffee together after your runs, then breakfast.

Then you hadn’t heard from him in a while, you’d assumed he was busy.

When you saw him again he was different, a little harsher, less soft. He’d invited you over to his place, which was unusual.

You were deep in friend mode, too distracted to recognise a booty call when you saw it.

You’d stopped him as he leaned over you, put your hand to his face so he’d look at you, questions written all over your face.

‘We broke up,’ he’d told you.

You’d realised then what he needed you for, and you’d sealed your own fate when you’d let him use you that night.

Maybe ‘use’ is too callous a word, because God knows, Yoongi had made sure you’d enjoyed yourself too.

It was after that first time that Yoongi had said what he’d said about not expecting anything from him.

It’s been months since then of late night texts, leaving his apartment in the early morning. The Yoongi who texted you to come over wasn’t the same Yoongi who you’d met at that party of mutual friends. The Yoongi who’d taken you running and made you laugh had turned into a harder Yoongi.

He was hurting, you could see that much.

There’s a niggling worry in your head about what he’ll do when he’s healed, when he doesn’t need you.

***

Jung hyuk is a decent guy, you decide. It’s not his fault he’s so damn boring. He’s obviously highly intelligent, he’s an accountant of some description.

He’s one of Lia’s boyfriend Henry’s work colleagues, and you’re going to kill Henry when you next see him for setting you up on this date.

‘What are your plans this weekend?’ you ask politely, taking a mouthful of your pasta.

He sips his wine. ‘Nothing much, probably some hiking. My sister’s got engaged and my mother wants us all around to dinner this weekend too.’

‘Oh how lovely. Do you know her fiancé?’ you ask.

‘We haven’t met,’ he says.

You take another bite of your pasta, because carbs are the only way you’re going to get through this meal.

‘What about you?’ he asks, valiantly.

You’re opening your mouth to answer when the front door of the restaurant opens and you see a familiar dark head.

Yoongi’s walking in, but it’s not the Yoongi you’ve come to know over the last few months, who seems to live in sweats and baggy tees.

This Yoongi is so beautiful he takes your breath away.

His dark hair is styled away from his forehead, a lock falling carelessly forward over his pale skin. He’s smartly dressed, in a suit jacket, a shirt, clothes that look like they’ve been tailored especially for him.

His familiar silver earrings glint in his ears, and they’re the one thing that look the same.

Because the other unfamiliar thing is that he’s got a woman on his arm whom you instantly recognise as his ex.

She’s as beautiful as he is.

You’re not surprised at seeing them together, maybe a part of you has always known that your thing with Yoongi is transient.

What you are surprised at is how small and sad seeing them together makes you feel.

Jung hyuk’s speaking to you, and you apologise, turning back to him, reaching for your composure and your social smile, pasting it on your face.

You make it through the rest of your date with barely any idea of what you’re saying.

Jung hyuk, like the decent guy he is, wants to see you home, but you beg off, saying you’re meeting a friend.

You walk a few doors down from the restaurant to a bar and order yourself something to drown your sorrows in.

You’re on your second drink, armour almost entirely back on, when a painfully familiar low voice orders a whiskey next to you. You glance up to see Yoongi. He doesn’t look at you as he takes a seat next to you at the bar.

You turn back to your drink.

Your skin feels prickly, there’s a thrumming through your veins, a thrill at seeing him that you can’t deny.

Your body’s always had a visceral reaction to seeing him that your conscious self isn’t in control of.

You can’t stop yourself. You say his name.

At first you think he doesn’t hear you.

Then he’s turning to you, hand sliding around the back of your neck, pulling you into him.

His lips meet yours, and your eyes squeeze shut so you can focus on how he feels.

As always, the feel of him stems your longing. You know it’s transient but it feels so good.

He tastes like whiskey, and honey, and him.

Then he’s pulling away, tossing back the remainder of his drink, curling an arm around you to usher you out of the bar.

He keeps his arm around you as he pulls out his phone with his other hand, ordering a taxi. You’re tucked into his chest under his coat, face pressed against him, so close you can smell his subtle cologne, the fabric softener he uses on his clothes.

Lately you’ve been more careful about where you put your things when you go over to Yoongi’s. You’ve been planning your exits because you want less time after the high of being together and the inevitable fall when he doesn’t ask you to stay.

You want to be well on your way home so you can pull yourself together again.

And so you track where your things are – your heels in his entryway, kicked off hastily as he peels your coat off you and hangs it on a coat hook. Your clutch, placed carefully on the hall table next to his wallet and keys.

Your dress makes it to his bedroom floor, your panties in a fold of black lace next to it.

Your bra never makes it off you, not completely anyway, straps tight around your upper arms as Yoongi fucks you into his bed.

You moan into his ear as you cum, and he says your name as he spills inside you. Repeatedly, almost like a chant. Like he’s thinking of you and not the woman he dressed up for tonight.

Yoongi gets up to use the bathroom, and you get up to get your clothes back on.

Retracing your steps as you make your exit, picking your things up so there’s no trace of you ever being there apart from your DNA on his sheets, on his skin.

You’re getting quicker at this, so quick it almost feels like you’re running away.

Who are you kidding? You are running away.

Your phone lights up when you reach home, but for your own self-preservation, you ignore it.

***

You wake slowly, the insistent buzzing of your doorbell needling your semi-consciousness so that by the time you’re awake there’s a line between your brows, furrowed in annoyance.

You stumble to the door, press a button for the intercom.

‘Hello?’ you ask, voice husky from sleep.

‘It’s Min Yoongi,’ he says. ‘Can you let me in?’

There’s no time to wash the sleep from your face. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you first thing in the morning anyway.

You open the door warily.

‘Hi Min Yoongi,’ you say, looking askance at the two cups of coffee in a cardboard tray in his hand.

He’s got the grace to laugh. ‘I thought I might not be the only Yoongi you know,’ he says, trying to play it off.

‘You’re right. I know a lot of Yoongis,’ you say, straight-faced.

You nod to the coffee he’s holding out to you. ‘For me?’

‘I wondered if you wanted to get breakfast with me,’ he says.

You look at him for a long moment.

There’s a fluttering in your chest that only gets stronger as you take in his clothes, his hair, how good he smells.

‘Is this a date?’ you ask. Your voice comes out steady even though there’s a roll of the dice associated with it, your heart at stake.

Yoongi smiles at you, looking so much like the old Yoongi who used to take you for coffee that you know what he’s going to say before he says it.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I’d like to date you, if you’ll have me.’

‘Whoa there,’ you say, reaching for your coffee. ‘Let’s just see how coffee goes.’

Yoongi laughs and then you’re smiling at each other like idiots.

It’s the best you’ve felt in a long time.

©hamsterclaw 2022

AAAAAAAAAAAAA i didn’t see that twist coming. i loved it! so glad oc and yoongi have each other’s hands to hold for hopefully forever! sweet and smart girl jisoo was a delight to read 🥰🥰🥰

Tip of the Iceberg (M) | MYG

A/N: Co-Authored by @gukslut​​ / cross-posted to her blog.

Granny Park’s Gossip:

Oh, that Min boy? He’s a sweetheart, of course. Jimin said something about him getting into a new relationship with someone, but he hasn’t brought her by yet, so I can’t be sure. I just hope this one sticks around, he’s really so much more than he first seems to be. All those tattoos and whatnot, people tend not to notice that he’s really just so caring and gentle. You know he works at one of those stuffed animal stores in his free time? The ones with the dancing and the hearts and picking out your new best friend kind of theme. Ah, what a nice boy. I hope he has a good holiday. I’ll have to ask Jimin how it goes.

      ❄  Word Count: 20.1k

      ❄ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

      ❄ Genre: Tattoo Artist AU / New Relationship / Fluff / Smut / Angst / Humor

      ❄ Rating: 18+ / Explicit

      ❄ CW and other tags: swearing, reader has scars on her ass she wanted to cover up with a tattoo, the reason is left unsaid, but reader is insecure about her body cause of it, Yoongi is soft and understanding, sexual innuendo, Yoongi was a foster kid, Yoongi has some abandonment issues, and by ‘some’ I mean a lot, and it’s not just his upbringing but a lot of other things too, Yoongi has a lot of piercings and tattoos, Yoongi has pierced nipples, there may or may not also be a dick piercing, virgin Yoongi, like he’s done hand stuff and oral but no PIV/PIA, bisexual Yoongi, honestly the pair of them are both just hella insecure, Yoongi has emotional intimacy problems, Jimin gets blackmailed by a certain character (it’s funny/cute though, it’s not dramatic at all lol), Tae is soft, even more sexual innuendo, talking in code, mentioned to the aforementioned ‘Hobi’ incident in The: Holiday Unplugged, in which Hobi got a dildo stuck in his ass, arguments, honestly there’s just like multiple people with insecurities/abandonment issues in this fic, but they all love each other, Jeongguk is a mess and a freak, Star (Tae’s Y/N in another upcoming fic) is also a freak, you’ll find out why lmao, fingering, grinding, making out, filthy dirty talk, oral sex (male and female receiving), vibrating… tongue piercings…, masturbation, sexting, you’ve heard of dirty talk now get ready for S O F T talk, peaches and cream, nipple play, minor cum play, hard (but not rough) fucking, s o f t sex, 

The Snowball Effect Collab Masterlist This is the fourth fic in the series/project The Snowball Effect by @fortunexkookie​ (me!), @stutterfly​ (Kristi), and @gukslut​​ (Ashley). Please click the link above to see the summaries and genres for each fic! Also, while each of these fics can stand on their own, they all end up at the same place, occurring simultaneously. There are also little easter eggs and secrets for the other fics woven throughout each of these! For the biggest, fluffiest Snowball Effect experience, we highly recommend you read each of them!

Keep reading

Hoseok weekly ↳ 11/78

i love this couple!!!!!! this is AMAZING and i can’t wait to reread straight shooter as always hahahaha

More ‘Straight Shooter’ lore yesssss I love that fic so much!!!!!!! Things I like to imagine after the ending: 1) JK about to go on his first mission and y/n cooing over him and fully kitting him out whilst Yoongi pouts 2) a rooftop date where Yoongi is like “sorry I’ve sniped here before but the view is beautiful” and y/n is like “you thought of me?? 🥺” 3) general domestic scenes in the Hobi/Yoongi/JK Household

I wrote this in like 20 minutes, thank you to @morndas for looking at this and assuring me it wasn't terrible (I haven't written anything in the straight shooter verse for literal years now)

a rooftop date where Yoongi is like “sorry I’ve sniped here before but the view is beautiful” and y/n is like “you thought of me?? 🥺”

straight shooter snippet ; 1

Familiarity breeds contempt, they say.

Yoongi doesn’t think so.

Then again, Yoongi’s found he doesn’t always agree with what everyone else says - what they say, what they think, what they do. Maybe it’s because he’s always hyperaware of his surroundings. He has to be in his line of work, after all. Contempt is a luxury he doesn’t allow himself to foster. A single slip-up and he could be dead.

The lower levels are looked down upon by those who live above. In the upper levels they turn up their noses, turn away from the grime and the filth, the decaying foundations that have been neglected for far too long. Dirty, ugly, abandoned, they say, even as they continue to build atop them, profit from them. There’s nothing beautiful down there.

But they don’t know the city like he does.

They don’t know about this secret perch, hidden atop a darkened skyscraper, dilapidated and hollow.

They don’t know that the lower city shines.

All the strata rise from here, a graduated terrace that ascends upwards and upwards. Each level sparkles and glitters, glowing even in the darkness, a kaleidoscope of neon colour that would be a riotous clamour if one were too close. Instead, from this distance it all blurs into one, a shimmering gradient that softens all the sharp edges of this place into something beautiful. Being at the bottom of this cascading array means that an onlooker can tilt their head back and never find an end to it all, almost, like they could lean further and further back and never fall. That they would be caught in this neverending ouroboros of light and life.

There’s nothing beautiful down there, they say, but Yoongi knows that’s not true.

Because, after all, you’re here.

You’re here in the lower city, and you’re here beside him. You’re here, staring up at all of these lights with eyes wide open, drinking in this view, the endless constellations that make up a city of man-made stars.

“It’s hardly easy to get up here,” you say. “Not exactly a great place for a tourist attraction, if that’s what you were planning.”

Yoongi lets himself smile. He’s been doing that a lot more recently. Smiling. Usually when you’re around.

(Who would have thought?)

“I was using it as a sniper’s nest,” Yoongi says. “I thought you’d like the view.”

You turn towards him. As far away as you are from all those lights, those shooting stars, you still shine brighter still. (Bold, brilliant, bright. Beautiful.)

“You thought of me?”

(Sniper rifle of your making braced against his body, staring down a scope that you’d built, weapon loaded with bullets that you’d designed. The remembered press of your lips on his temple, his mouth, his neck. The lights of the city haloed around his view even as he focused in on his target below.)

“Yes,” he says.

(It’s just you, and him, and the endless lights below you. In your own hidden world away from everything else.)

And - with no bite behind it, no hidden laughter, nothing but a rare moment of unguarded fondness - you smile.

–

Familiarity breeds contempt, they say, but there are some things that Yoongi grows more familiar with day by day and will never grow tired of.

(Even if he’d never say it out loud.)

jeon576 생일은 지났지만 저만 보기 아까워서 😂 일찍 주무세요~ 😪 jeon576 your birthday is over but it’s a waste only i get to see these. 😂 have an early night~ 😪

trans cr: kai @ bangtan tumblr

i love this! can’t wait to see how yoongi will move forward from this small lie. also nara is already the cutest!!!!!!! AND GO OC for being straightforward like that. i hope you have the best time writing this and developing this story, author!!

between the lines — myg (1)

⌞part one⌝

yoongi brings his daughter to work with him in hopes to lift her mood and distract her from their harsh reality. only the distraction proves to be more than what yoongi had hoped for… a lot more.

pairing: single dad!yoongi x actress!f reader rating: nc-17  words: 6.1k  genre(s): fluff, angst, comedy au(s): strangers to lovers, single dad, single parent, movie industry, famous heroine, hidden identity, found family warnings: curse words, abandonment issues, past trauma, loss of loved ones, mention of poor mental health, previous financial struggles, side pairing (namseok)

author’s note: the first part is here! i’m so happy to be able to share yoongi’s story. thoughts, opinions and feedback is warmly welcomed! [div cr]

caution: this part will mention a couple of heavy and sensitive topics. please read at your own risk. remember, your mental health matters ♡

© 2023 afterglowjeons on tumblr. all rights reserved.

series masterlist ✧ main masterlist ✧ ask box

“I used to rule the world…” A raspy groan escaped Yoongi’s lips. He rolled onto his stomach, blinking bleary eyed as he haphazardly reached out for his iPhone. Each day, as per his usual routine, Yoongi’s cell phone vibrated at six-thirty in the morning with the unmistakable violins of Viva La Vida. 

Tapping his forefinger on the orange stop button, Chris Martin’s voice disappeared into the comfortable silence of Yoongi’s bedroom. He released another groan, bringing his dominant hand up to run his fingers through his raven colored strands, “Time to get up,” he murmured to himself, throwing off the covers. 

Min Yoongi was a creature of habit; to put it simply. He enjoyed having structure and order in his life, especially where his daughter was concerned. Min Nara was a force to be reckoned with and the light of Yoongi’s life. She brightened his existence in every sense of the word and he couldn’t imagine his life without her. Nara was a bubbly, energetic and effervescent eight year old. She approached each day with curiosity, excitement and wonder – to which Yoongi absolutely adored. The only downside to this was his daughter’s tendency to be late for school. And appointments. And piano lessons. Among other things. So he learned rather quickly that an organized schedule would be beneficial for the both of them. 

“Bug,” Yoongi called from his doorway, “Rise and shine.” 

Nara’s bedroom resided directly adjacent to his own, their doors essentially mirrored. It was one of the things he liked about the modest two-bedroom apartment he currently leased. He was fortunate enough to be renting from his best friend, meaning rent was significantly more affordable than other properties on the market. He couldn’t be more thankful for the friendships in his life. His friends treated him and Nara as family and vice versa. 

Ten minutes passed and Nara still hadn’t emerged from her bedroom. Yoongi was already dressed in a pair of charcoal jeans and a fitted black tee. Although his workplace didn’t mandate a dress code, Yoongi preferred to wear black to work at all times, “Nara,” he approached her door, rapping his knuckles against the door frame, “Are you okay?” 

A cough sounded from the other side of the door and Yoongi’s heart rate spiked. Hastily turning the knob, Yoongi entered his daughter’s bedroom and rushed to her side, “Bug, are you sick?”

Nara glanced up at her father, blankets tucked beneath her chin. She nodded. 

“Oh Bug… Why didn’t you come get me earlier?” Yoongi’s face etched with worry. 

“Because you were sleeping Daddy. I didn’t wanna wake you up.” 

Frowning, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible. His baby girl was unwell and he wished he’d seen the signs earlier. It had been so much easier when she was younger. 

“It’s alright, Bug. I’m going to check your temperature and bring back some cough medicine, okay? Hang tight.” He pressed a doting kiss to the top of her head and hurried to the bathroom. 

With Yoongi preoccupied in the bathroom, sifting through the medicine cabinet, Nara sneakily pulled a heated wheat bag from beneath her pillow. She placed it directly to her forehead, in hopes for her temperature to rise. She’d managed to warm up the bag in the microwave while her father snoozed, knowing that his alarm went off at the same time every morning. Nara’s plan was all but going according to plan. When she heard his footsteps, she quickly tucked the wheat bag back underneath her pillow. 

Yoongi returned seconds later, his hands full of medical supplies. Overprotective Dad Mode: Activated. 

“My poor baby,” he cooed, placing the items onto the edge of her bed, “Let’s see what we’re working with,” he uncapped the thermometer, gently gesturing for Nara to open her mouth. She complied. While the thermometer began to count upwards in Fahrenheit, Yoongi placed his palm against her forehead, “You’re burning up. Shit.” 

Curse words weren’t an anomaly in the Min household, despite how often his friends scolded Yoongi for being crass around his daughter. He argued that Nara was intelligent enough to know not to use those words, as they were for adults only. He didn’t want to restrict himself around her; he aimed to be as authentic as possible. Nara was all he had and he wanted her to be able to trust him with everything, no matter how big or small. Yes, he was her father, but he also wanted to be her friend. 

“I don’t think I should go to school today Daddy,” Nara mumbled through a pout.

 “I think you might be ri–” The thermometer interrupted him, “Wait, this is weird. It says you’re only ninety-eight degrees.” 

Nara’s eyes widened, “Really?”

“Yeah Bug, that’s normal,” Yoongi said. His eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t understand. Your forehead felt like a furnace.” He placed his palm against her forehead once more. It wasn’t as hot as before. That confused him further, “Huh… It feels fine now. I think you can go to school today, Bug. I’ll give you some cough syrup before we leave, hm?” 

Nara’s lips quivered, “No Daddy! I’m too sick!” 

“Nara, you feel fine–” 

“I’m not fine!” Nara cried out, her hickory colored eyes welling up with tears, “I’m sick! Please let me stay home!”

His eyebrows shot up. Yoongi hadn’t witnessed Nara this way since her ‘Terrible Twos’. She looked distraught and the sight tore away at his heartstrings. What was upsetting his Lovebug?

“Nara,” Yoongi sat down beside her, “You’re upset. Can you tell me what’s going on?” 

Sniffling, Nara reached behind her head and tugged out the heated wheat bag. Relief washed over Yoongi’s face, although he felt a little disappointed that she had tried to trick him. She’d never pulled a stunt like this before and he wanted to know what pushed her to do so. 

After what felt like hours, Nara finally spoke, “I don’t wanna go to school.” 

“Why not?” Yoongi asked gently. 

“Just ‘cause.” 

“Come on, Bug. There’s got to be a reason. You love school.” That was true; Nara adored going to school. She was thriving in all her second grade classes, particularly art and physical education. Just like her father. She had at least half a dozen friends and eagerly looked forward to seeing them every weekday. So this was certainly out of character for his vivacious baby girl. 

Nara tugged the blankets up over her face, causing Yoongi to release a heavy sigh. He didn’t want to push her but time was ticking away. He needed to be in the back lot by eight-thirty and he hadn’t even arranged breakfast for the two of them yet. 

“Okay, I’ll give you some space–”

“No, please don’t go Daddy,” she said from underneath the covers, “I’m sorry.” She sniffled again, peeling back the duvet to expose her reddened eyes to her concerned father. Yoongi felt his heart squeeze and his eyes softened. 

“You don’t need to be sorry, Bug. I’m just worried about my little girl and I want to know how I can help.”

Nara’s lips trembled, “I don’t think you can help, Daddy.” 

“Why not?” Yoongi inquired, his hands reaching out to delicately brush away the flyaways falling over her eyes, “I’m sure there’s something I can do. Should I talk to Ms Lee? Do I need to talk to someone’s mom?” He wasn’t above putting a Karen in her place. He would move mountains and scale the oceans for Nara. 

She shook her head sadly, “No.”

Yoongi was at a loss. He felt helpless. His daughter was hurting and he couldn’t come up with a solution to make her feel better. What a shitty father he was. Rubbing his forehead with his hand, Yoongi resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose out of stress. What could he possibly do in this situation? This was uncharted territory for him. 

“I don’t wanna go to school because everyone is gonna have their moms there except me.” 

Yoongi had been so caught up in his own mind that he’d almost missed his daughter’s admission. Face falling, he noticed the way Nara dejectedly picked at her nail beds, “Oh Bug…” That’s when realization hit him like a freight train. Today was ‘Bring Your Mom To School Day’. He should’ve been more diligent in checking the school semester calendar on the fridge, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve known.” 

Nara shrugged. His Lovebug was putting on a brave face, that was for sure. 

“Come here,” He said, tapping his upper thigh. She immediately flung into her father’s arms, curling up in his lap like she used to a couple years ago. Nara buried her head into his chest and Yoongi’s heart shattered when he heard her sniffle once more. This part never got easier, “I’ve got you, Lovebug.”

His words held promise because he meant them with his entire heart. Yoongi wasn’t ever going to give up on her, not like she had. He closed his eyes as the painful memories resurfaced. 

“Yoongi listen…”

“I can’t do this anymore…”

“I’m not cut out to be a mother…”

“I didn’t ask for this…”

“I’m leaving and you can’t stop me…”

Nara had only been four months old when her mother walked out on them. Was Nara planned? Absolutely not. Yoongi was only twenty-one when Sana called him in tears, wailing that her life was over because she was pregnant. The two of them had been in their final year of college and the idea of having a child was nothing short of terrifying. Neither of them had been ready.

After calming her down over the phone, Yoongi gave Sana the time and space to determine what she wanted to do. It was her body, her choice and he was going to back her on whatever she decided. When she revealed to him two weeks later that she wanted to keep the baby and not terminate the pregnancy, Yoongi was secretly overjoyed. He’d partaken in a lot of research during their short time apart and he believed he could make the whole parenting thing work – even when he was on the verge of shitting himself scared. 

The pregnancy had been a lot of work. Despite Sana’s parents being pretty well-off, she refused to tell them about the baby until the birth. Her tuition was being covered by her father’s hefty bank account and she had a feeling that he would stop paying her school fees if he knew about her pregnancy, so Yoongi had to find another job. He didn’t have the luxury of asking his parents for financial aid, as Yoongi had a difficult childhood. His father left when he was still in the womb and his mother sadly passed away from ovarian cancer when he was just sixteen years old. Yoongi ended up living with his uncle until he turned eighteen and got accepted into university. He was on a full-ride scholarship that included a room in the male dorms, board and necessary school supplies. But to save himself from boredom, he also worked part time as a freelance videographer.

Without Sana contributing any source of income, he knew he needed to step up and provide for his family. So he secured a serving position just outside of campus that luckily offered him thirty hours a week. Between working two jobs, studying for finals and helping Sana in any way he could – Yoongi was exhausted. But it had all been worth it when Sana’s obstetrician told them they were expecting a baby girl. 

“A girl! I’m going to be a girl dad,” He gushed to Sana with glossy eyes, “I’m so happy, babe.”

Little did he know that Sana felt the opposite. She’d been hoping for a son. She didn’t want to raise a girl. In her mind, girls cost more money. Girls required more attention. Girls were just more. But instead, she forced a smile and led Yoongi to believe that everything was going to be okay. She continued to play him for a fool until that fateful day when she packed a duffle bag and left him standing in the middle of their tiny studio apartment, a crying Nara swaddled in his arms. The trajectory of his life changed that day and Yoongi made a promise to himself and to his daughter that he wouldn’t ever leave her. Not like her mother did to her and not like his deadbeat father did to him. No matter what it took, Yoongi was going to give Nara the childhood he never had. 

Now that was easier said than done. With Sana gone, Yoongi fell into a depression. Things became drastically harder. He had to get Nara onto bottles, as breastfeeding was obviously off the table. The transition to baby formula had been a struggle at first, but thankfully it didn’t last for very long. While getting Nara used to a new feeding schedule, Yoongi also had to juggle work. He’d finished college two months before Nara was born but hadn’t been able to do anything with his undergraduate’s degree. Why? Well obviously no company advertising an entry level position was willing to hire a new father. All Yoongi could do was fall back on his videography side hustle and that wasn’t enough to keep his head above water.

Before long, Yoongi had found himself coming face to face with an eviction notice and a month to vacate his studio apartment. He’d hit rock bottom. He was a fucking failure. What kind of father struggled to provide for his daughter? A pathetic excuse for one, that’s what he told himself. He was twenty-two with a six month old baby girl and no sign of light at the end of the tunnel. Until the day he came across Namjoon’s post on a popular leasing website. 

Kim Namjoon posted under the ‘Apartments And Rooms For Rent’ tag, stating that he was looking for a long-term roommate. His prerequisites had been simple: Clean, responsible, self-sufficient. The asking price for the room was dirt cheap and Yoongi almost fell off his futon when he read the ad. He couldn't recall the last time he typed a phone number that fast. Namjoon answered after the third ring, his deep voice filling Yoongi’s ears. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Kim Namjoon?”

“Yes, speaking.”

“Hi Namjoon. My name is Yoongi and I’m calling about the ad you posted online…”

After a twenty-five minute conversation over the phone, Namjoon invited Yoongi to come and visit the property that afternoon. The next day, a tenancy agreement arrived in Yoongi’s email inbox. He cried in relief for about an hour. 

Namjoon had been a gift sent from above. The man was a year younger than Yoongi, but he’d already graduated from university with high honors. He was something of a genius. He worked in advertising and was on a cool six figures a year at twenty-one. Namjoon wanted a roommate for one purpose and one purpose only – he needed someone to handle all the household chores because he was far too busy to do it all himself. When he explained that to Yoongi, he was a little sheepish. The ad hadn’t mentioned that teeny tiny detail, but Yoongi didn’t care in the slightest. Especially when he arrived with Nara strapped to his chest in her baby sling. Namjoon had been surprised but not repulsed. In fact, he became rather enamored the second his eyes met Nara’s big, bright ones. 

“You have a kid.”

“Yeah… Look, I’m sorry I didn’t mention it over the phone–”

“Forget about the rent. Consider the housework your payment.”

“What? Woah, Namjoon, that's not necessary.”

“Yes it is. When was the last time someone helped you guys out?”

Yoongi’s silence had been the only answer Namjoon needed. The original tenancy agreement was scrapped and the two not only became roommates that day, but the best of friends. 

Snapping out of his memory haze, Yoongi proceeded to rub his daughter’s back. Seven and a half years ago, this room had been Namjoon’s. His best friend now lived in a lavish three-bedroom apartment with his husband, a brilliant attorney by the name of Jung Hoseok. Hobi, as he was affectionately known as, was the one who helped Yoongi get his job when Nara was eighteen months old. He truly owed Joon and Hobi his life; he couldn’t imagine where he’d be without them. 

“I won’t send you to school today,” Yoongi broke the silence that lingered between father and daughter, “How about you come to work with me instead?” 

Nara retracted from his chest, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, “Really?”

“Yeah Bug,” Yoongi smiled, “Let’s make today ‘Bring Your Child To Work Day’.” His chest felt lighter when Nara’s face brightened. He would do absolutely anything to make her happy. Putting a smile on her face was the only thing that mattered to him. 

She didn’t say anything. Instead, Nara threw her arms around his neck and squished her face into the crook of his neck, “Thank you Daddy,” she mumbled into his skin, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

They embraced for a few minutes more until Nara pulled away. She looked much happier. The sad little girl that tried to fake a fever was no longer in the room and all the weight that had rested on Yoongi’s shoulders was beginning to evaporate, “Alright Min Nara, you have ten minutes to get dressed. I’ll make some breakfast to go. Peanut butter and jelly toast okay?”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Yes please! With extra peanut butter!” She bounded off the bed and hurried over to her white IKEA dresser decorated in a mass of butterfly stickers. Yoongi grinned, That’s my Lovebug, he thought.

With three minutes to spare, Yoongi parked in his usual parking spot. Nara wriggled with excitement when Yoongi pulled the handbrake and shut off the engine to his thirteen year old Kia hatchback. In the six and a half years of working at HB Studios, Yoongi had a near perfect record of clocking in exactly on time. Perks of living a well-structured life. 

“Okay Bug,” Yoongi hummed as they walked from Lot A to Lot C, “I’m going to need you to be on your best behavior today.” 

Nara beamed with a nod. She held out her pinky finger, to which Yoongi linked with his own. They never just promised each other something; it had to be a pinky promise. It just made sense. 

“I’ll have you hang out with Tae today, how’s that sound?”

“Uncle Tae?” Nara nearly squealed. 

Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh, “Sounds good I’m guessing?” He didn’t need her to respond, not when she adored her uncles. Sometimes he believed Nara loved them more than she did himself. Not that he could blame his daughter, his friends were the best of the best. Besides Joon and Hobi, Yoongi had befriended a bunch of his coworkers over the years. There was Taehyung, who worked in the wardrobe department and was tightly wrapped around his niece’s little finger; also Jimin, who worked as a stunt performer; also Seokjin, who worked as an accountant for the production buying team; and finally Jungkook who worked right alongside Yoongi as boom operators. 

With Nara holding his hand, Yoongi punched in his employee code into the clock-in system, “Alright, let’s go surprise Uncle Tae.” Perhaps he should’ve given Taehyung a head’s up that Nara would be joining him today, but honestly, the man would bend over backwards for his niece. He had his own office, so Yoongi wasn’t all too worried about leaving his daughter with his best friend for eight hours. 

“Uncle TaeTae!” Nara shrieked with delight when Yoongi knocked on the window beside his office door, “I’m working with you today!” That had her father chuckling in amusement. 

Taehyung smiled wide, immediately crouching and opening his arms. Nara ran right into his hold, squealing gleefully when her uncle swung her around, “I’m so glad, I’ve always wanted an assistant!” 

Yoongi snorted, “Using my kid for child labor, huh Kim? Now I don’t feel so bad for not shooting you a text.” 

“It’s not child labor if I compensate her with a Happy Meal, now is it?”

“You’re annoying,” Yoongi rolled his eyes playfully when Taehyung laughed, “No but seriously, is it cool if she’s with you today?” He was certain that it wouldn't be an issue, but Yoongi still struggled with asking favors from his friends. Over the years he’d gotten a little better at it, but deep down he still felt like he was failing at being a parent. His guilty conscience could be a real pain in the ass sometimes.

Taehyung gave Yoongi a look that said Duh!, “Of course it is. I will never say no to spending time with my Nara girl.” Now that had the little girl in question beaming like a kid on Christmas morning. 

“Thanks Tae, I owe you one.” 

“No,” His best friend firmly shook his head, “You don’t owe me a thing. I’m happy to do it. Remember that, okay?”

It was hard to stomach but Yoongi nodded anyway. Maybe one day he’ll accept help without feeling like he had to return the favor at any point. 

“Good,” Taehyung grinned broadly,  “Now get the hell out of my office. Nara and I have work to do.” 

It was around two in the afternoon when Yoongi received a text message from Taehyung, alerting him that Jungkook had ‘kidnapped’ his child and was bringing Nara over to Lot F. Yoongi and Jungkook primarily worked in Lot B, where the first eight stages were located. Lot A was the main parking structure, Lot C was the hub for wardrobe, two office buildings and four more stages, Lot D was another eight stages and finally Lot F, where post production was located.

When Jungkook wasn’t busy doing his job, he was frequently found hanging around in Lot F.

“They have the best staff cafeteria!” He proclaimed sometime six months ago, “You think I’m gonna pass up on that extra cheesy carbonara? Like fucking hell!”

Realistically, Jungkook didn’t spend the majority of his spare time in Lot F for the food, but rather the new – and pretty – foley artist. He harbored one hell of a crush for her, no matter how hard he denied it. Yoongi was convinced the kid relied on Nara to be his wing-girl. 

Fifteen minutes later, Yoongi walked inside the main post production building. He looked around for any signs of his daughter and his manchild best friend. They had to be around here somewhere, as the foley studios were only in this building. He wandered around for a few moments more until Nara almost ran into him. 

“Daddy!” She smiled brightly, “Look what Uncle Tae said you could have!” She held up a garment bag no doubt containing a costume from Taehyung’s department. Her grin was near blinding; she was ecstatic. 

“Nara,” Yoongi chuckled, “Have you been carrying that around everywhere?” 

She shook her head, “No. Uncle Kookie carried it for me. He said that’s what his ‘big manly muscles’ are for!” Oh how Yoongi loved his daughter’s ability to repeat her uncle’s out of pocket comments. Jungkook found himself thrown under the bus more often than the others. 

“Is that so? Well I’m glad he made himself useful,” Yoongi smirked, reaching out to take the large bag from his eight year old, “Did Tae really say I could have this? Or did you go looking in the donation bin again?” 

Nara looked sheepish and her face flushed a little. It hadn’t been her first time getting into the donation bin. The studio liked to donate costumes that were no longer needed or desired by the wardrobe department to local charities. So really it wasn’t a big deal that Nara had taken an item or two, “Uncle Tae said it would look better on you than a stranger, anyway!”

“That sounds like Taehyung,” Yoongi said with a knowing smile, “What is it, Bug?” He asked as he peered down at the bag; although he could guess it was a tuxedo of some kind. 

“A suit! Uncle Tae said that you need one! Please try it on Daddy!” 

The excitement radiating from Nara warmed Yoongi’s heart. She’d done a complete one-eighty since this morning and for that, he was eternally grateful to Taehyung. That dude could easily quit his job and become a professional child whisperer. 

“I’ll do that once we get home, yeah?” 

“No!” Nara exclaimed, “Try it on now! Please, please, please!” She popped her lips into a pout, the puppy dog eyes making their grand appearance. She knew his ultimate weakness, “Pretty please.”

With a resigned sigh, Yoongi caved. He couldn’t say no to his baby girl, not when she was giving him the biggest case of puppy dog eyes. She was the only person that could put Jungkook’s doe eyes to shame, “Okay. But it’ll have to be quick, I need to get back to work soon.” 

That was enough to satisfy Nara. She beamed and clapped her hands together happily. 

“I can’t do it here though,” he told her gently, “Let’s go over to Lot D. There’s more places for me to change there.” Truthfully, Yoongi didn’t care whether he got changed here or not. But it was far too risky and he didn't want to get caught slacking on the job. There was nothing scheduled for Lot D today, meaning the entire space should be empty. It was perfect. 

Nara didn’t need to be told twice. She grasped his hand and they made their way towards Lot D together. He made sure to send Jungkook a text, so that the poor dude didn’t have a heart attack over losing his niece. 

When they arrived at the lot, Yoongi ushered them inside Stage 19. It was the smallest one of the eight and the most inconspicuous in his opinion. Stage 19 was known amongst the crew for being the closest thing to a storage room. Everyone brought useless shit, usually things that didn’t have a delegated spot, to that stage and left it there. So Yoongi was confident that he wouldn’t be found out here. 

“Nara, I need you to stay right here, okay?” Yoongi kissed the top of his daughter’s head. She nodded her head when he propped her up on an old white fold-out table that once belonged to the Lot D cafeteria, “I’ll be right out.” He assured her before ducking inside the singular male toilet. 

Yoongi unzipped the garment bag and was taken aback by the suit resting on the metal hanger inside. It was a dark slate gray three piece tuxedo, paired with a crisp black button up. He wondered what movie this costume had been used for, because the suit looked damn expensive. He didn’t know the first thing about designer brands, but there was no doubt in his mind that this was designer. He made a mental note to ask Taehyung later on. 

He stripped off his jeans and T-shirt, leaving him in nothing but a pair of Calvin Klein briefs. Carefully, he clothed himself in the dress pants, button up, four button vest and suit jacket. The material felt like silk against his skin. No wonder Tae let Nara take it, this is way too good to donate, he thought. He stashed his discarded clothes in the garment bag and hung it on the back of the toilet door, so they wouldn’t get dirty. Not that he had too much to worry about, the amenities were professionally cleaned each night. 

“You clean up alright, Min,” he said to his reflection in the mirror, “Bug has good taste.” He smiled fondly at the thought of his daughter seeing him in this get-up. He could imagine the excitement. With that, he blew out a breath and walked out of the men’s toilet. 

“How do I look, Bug?” He asked, lifting his head to find the table empty. Panic stabbed Yoongi's chest almost immediately, “Nara? Nara!” He called out, eyes wide and palms sweaty. He hadn’t spent more than five minutes in the toilet and yet, his daughter was nowhere to be found. He violently cursed himself, running a hand through his hair frantically, “Nara!”

Yoongi took off in a jog, his eyes scanning the area. He felt like he was about to vomit. This was every father’s nightmare, wasn’t it? He’d once dreaded the thought of losing Nara in the grocery store but this? This was ten times worse. No, more like a hundred times worse. He wished he never agreed to trying on the suit. This whole situation could’ve been avoided. How many stupid mistakes was he going to make today?

He kept calling out her name and his heart seized each time he was met with silence. Until he heard her angelic laugh coming from a distance. He ran towards the sound of her laughter, finding himself in the middle of Stage 18, “Nara!” Yoongi hollered. Seconds later, he spotted her. She was sitting on a sofa nestled in the middle of a set, her legs dangling off the edge of the cushions and her head resting against a woman’s arm, watching something on said woman’s phone. Yoongi felt his mouth dry up when he recognized Nara’s company. You weren't just any woman – you were the star of a new blockbuster the studio was in the middle of filming. Yoongi hadn’t landed the contract for that movie, which explained why he hadn’t crossed paths with you until now. 

You were breathtaking in person. He always thought you were beautiful. It’s what led him to doing a shameless Google search four months ago when the movie began production in Lot D. But nothing could have prepared him for your beauty in real life. He felt bewildered, mesmerized and infatuated all at once. What were you doing here? From what he’d heard on the grapevine, Lot D didn’t have a schedule this week because filming was taking place offsite. Has filming already wrapped? He was confused as hell but of course he wasn’t going to speak on it, not when you were the talk of the film industry right now. That practically made you royalty. 

“Nara,” Yoongi breathed when he finally approached the sofa, “What are you doing? I told you to stay. Why would you leave? I was worried sick.” He sounded exasperated and he certainly felt that way. He almost had a panic attack, for crying out loud. 

“Sorry Daddy,” Nara pouted, “I just wanted to say hi.”

Yoongi’s eyes shifted to yours then and he could’ve sworn he felt his stomach erupt with butterflies. He hadn’t been this affected by a woman since Sana… 

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out,” you apologized, your voice echoing in his ears like his favorite song on repeat, “I was walking past Stage 19 and she must’ve recognized me. She ran out a few seconds later and introduced herself. Your daughter is adorable.” 

Pride spread across Yoongi’s chest. His lips curled into a shy smile, “Thank you. I’m sorry she disturbed you. She knows better than to go up to strangers.” He made stern eye contact with his daughter. Her hickory colored eyes saddened and she looked down at her fingers. He hated this part of parenting. It was tough disciplining Nara sometimes because she was genuinely a good kid. But stranger danger was a big no-no for Yoongi and he wanted Nara to understand why it was dangerous. 

“It’s alright, I don’t mind,” you smiled, “Obviously it’s not safe to approach people you don’t know,” you quickly added for the sake of not stepping on Nara’s father’s toes, “But she didn’t disturb me. I really enjoy her company.” 

“Oh… That’s good.” Yoongi internally cringed at his awkwardness.  

You smiled even wider, finding him refreshing. He was unbelievably handsome, that much was obvious. He wasn’t super tall, but he wasn’t short either, however he was broad. His shoulders filled out the suit jacket he donned perfectly and you blushed a little when you caught yourself staring. You hadn’t seen him around the set before, which sparked your curiosity. The studio was massive and thousands of employees worked behind the scenes, but judging by the way he was impeccably dressed, he had to be someone of high importance. Perhaps he was an executive producer? You wondered if you should ask him, but you also didn’t want to impose. You’d already given him a near heart attack by showing Nara a TikTok on your phone. Was it weird that you found him even more attractive because he was a father? No doubt he had a gorgeous wife at home… 

“Forgive me for being rude, I’m–”

“Y/N,” Yoongi blurted, your name rolling off his tongue with ease, “Sorry. I, um, know who you are. You’re really talented.” He wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. How fucking embarrassing. You didn’t think so, though. You found him to be endearing. 

“Thank you, you’re sweet,” you smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I didn’t catch your name?”

“Yoongi.”

Nara’s face lit up upon your exchange, her eyes twinkling, “My Daddy makes movies!” 

This caught both of your attention. You were intrigued. Yoongi, on the other hand, was gobsmacked. He hoped that you wouldn’t misinterpret Nara’s words and assume that he was a director. That would be humiliating. Especially since his job was to hold the mic above actresses like herself. 

“Does he?” You smiled down at Nara, who had already stolen your heart, “Are you a director for another lot?”

Yoongi opened his mouth to respond, but Nara was faster, “He works in Lot B!” His chatterbox of a daughter revealed. She looked pleased with herself when an impressed expression spread across your facial features. 

“Wow, that’s amazing. I can’t believe we haven’t met before,” you said, “You must be really busy making all these brilliant movies. And you say I’m the talented one.” 

That’s because you are. I'm nobody, Yoongi wanted to say. The words were right on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t form words. He couldn’t even make noise. Was he in shock? Whatever it was, it allowed the little white lie Nara told to influence your opinion of him. Would you even talk to him if you knew who he really was? He looked you up on Instagram, he knows who your friends are. He knows the kind of company you keep. Your social circle was full of successful, beautiful and wealthy people. He wasn’t any of those three things. And yet, here you were, looking at him like he was. 

“Daddy is pretty busy,” Nara rambled, “But he still spends every day with me! He’s the best.” 

“Thanks, Bug.” Yoongi smiled lovingly at his daughter. Sure, she’d totally fed you a lie about his profession, but she had a heart of pure gold. She probably just misunderstood what he actually does for a living. It wasn’t really her fault. All he had to do was tell you the truth. It’s not like he was ever going to see you again. 

He tried his best to ignore the little voice in the back of his mind that hoped he would see you again. The devil on his shoulder needed to stop being so persuasive. 

“He sounds like the best,” your voice had a bit of a flirty undertone, “We should get coffee sometime. I’d love to pick your brain about directing.” 

Say no, Yoongi. Say fucking no! “Yeah sure, that sounds great.”

Nara cheered. The angel on Yoongi’s shoulder face palmed. You grinned, looking effortlessly gorgeous as you whipped out your phone and opened up a new contact. 

How many stupid mistakes was Yoongi going to make today? Too many to count.

copyright © 2023 afterglowjeons. please do not copy, reupload or translate.

seungcheol u have my heart. i want someone to alternate doing dishes with too :( my eldest daughter heart is soosososooso soft for this

warnings! talks of wanting marriage.

“seungcheol, my love, my darling, my angel —”

your boyfriend opens one eye from where he’s lying on the couch, speaking in half a grunt and half a whine. “what do you want from me?”

he’s had the longest day at work, and he’s making sure you know it — so you, biting back a smile, bend over and cup his cheek lovingly. “it’s your turn to do the dishes.”

seungcheol opens his eyes slowly, and stares at you beseechingly. you stare back, unwavering.

“let’s get a divorce,” he declares finally, throwing a dramatic arm over his eyes.

“we’re not married, cheollie,” you laugh, as you kiss his forehead.

“yet,” he corrects automatically — and both of you freeze. he slides his arm ever so slightly to the side, gauging your reaction with one peeking eye.

a thousand words are said in the glance you two share, but you only need to say one. “yet,” you agree, softly.

he does try his best, but seungcheol can’t quite hide the delighted beam that spreads across his face, curving those lips you know so well. his whole body shifts towards you, rolling on the couch so he’s on his side; you have already given up on bending over him, and are sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the sofa instead.

he looks at you for a long time, reaching out a hand to trace the bridge of your nose suddenly, smiling when you blink in surprise. “i love you,” he murmurs. “i really don’t want to do the dishes.”

you lean into his touch, kissing the tip of his finger. “i love you too. i’ve already done them.”

an / me, ignoring all the requests in my inbox to write seungcheol fluff instead. prompt from this prompt list by the way!!

taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin

rather than be sad about it like i usually am, im going to take this as a sign of hope that i will find love and a partner that gives me the same feeling this yoongi does! thank you for this piece 🩵🩵🩵 will look back on this when i need to remind myself to believe i am capable of being loved 🥰

Had a big flop of a date and I'm sad.

Need a bff Yoongi that listens to your wallowing and tells you you don't need to be getting your feelings hurt by other dumb boys because he's RIGHT HERE and he's ready to give you everything you need )))):

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: You’re tired of the revolving door of boys in your life. Yoongi is tired of watching you nurse feelings in the quiet of your apartment. 

❀ Word Count: 1,406

❀ Genre: Friends to something more, a little angst, fluff

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: A little bit of angst, descriptions of loneliness and frustrations on dating, a little bit of insecurity, Hali’s Obnoxious Takes on Dating in 2023, a cute lil kiss, nothing too crazy

❀ Published: August 18, 2023

❀ A/N: Pardon me while I wax poetic about the current state of dating, especially with all these damn apps in the world. I hope this was able to capture how you felt in a way that feels authentic and then shatter it and make it better by offering a very sweet Yoongi ready to date you. I am so sorry your date was shitty, genuinely this is why I do not go on them!!!! This is currently unedited.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust |

Outside of your apartment window, the world is washed in gold. As the sun sets, you wish you could appreciate it a little more. The world looks beautiful outside, buildings like hammered bronze in the light, curtains lit up like a flame as they catch the rays of sun.

You look away from it, staring at your TV that is turned off instead. It’s silent in your apartment, the hum of the refrigerator the only noise. With your legs crossed on the couch, you tap your nails against the steaming mug of tea in your hands.

Sitting. Waiting. 

In another life, you’d perhaps be out on a date on account of the nice evening. The cool autumn air drifts through the cracked window, carrying the scent of possibility.

The only dates you’ve been on usually go two ways: they end in blocked numbers after uncomfortable interactions, or hurt feelings after being strung along for a few dates before eventually sending unanswered texts. 

It makes sense that dating is hard, but no one ever told you it would be this hard, trying to swim in a rushing river of dating apps, men who use therapy-speak to excuse their bad behavior, and people who have no accountability for others feelings. 

The sound of the front door opening brings you out of your melancholy daze. Yoongi walks in with a bag of takeout, immediately filling your apartment with the smell of fried wontons and the distinct hint of soy sauce. 

For the first time that day, you grin, unfolding from your spot on the couch and heading to wear Yoongi throws you a nod, already unbagging the food. You move wordlessly in tandem, grabbing drinks from your fridge with extra sauce and napkins. By the time you’ve returned to the counter to sit, Yoongi is already on his self-appointed stool, holding out his hand for chopsticks. 

This is what you need, you think as you pass them over. Someone who can speak to you without words, someone who just knows. Knows that when you sit down next to him, you need him to lean over and press a gentle kiss to the top of your head. It’s affection between friends, but it makes your heart flip. It always does, and you always ignore it.

“Talk to me about it,” Yoongi says, picking up a saucy strip of beef. “I want to hear about it.”

He doesn’t. Yoongi doesn’t say these things for his benefit. He says them because he knows that you’re too afraid of being inconvenient or annoying to speak the thoughts rolling around your head. His instincts are spot on - you do want to let out what’s inside of you, and the gentle encouragement that he wants to hear it does the trick.

“I guess I just don’t know what the point is,” you start, staring at your rice. “I really want a partner and someone that I can do life with or whatever so I’m less lonely, but I’m also so sick of first dates and having to play a game of social chess.”

“Dating in this era is impossible,” Yoongi agrees. “There’s a lot of very unempathetic and unaware individuals.”

“Exactly. Or people think they have endless options and it’s like, just because someone is in your DMs telling you that you look nice doesn’t mean that’s a potential suitor. It just means someone thinks you’re hot.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, so the last guy basically told me that he wanted to keep his options open because he has options. And it got me thinking: do people actually have all these options for life partners, or is it just people who are giving them attention online?”

“I see.”

“Online clout is not the same as a relationship option,” you conclude. “And I’m tired of people confusing the two. Or getting people who think it’s cool not to care about their partner or who use weaponized therapy words at me to avoid accountability. I had some guy tell me he was setting a boundary for me on monogamy and that me being interested in a one-on-one relationship was a violation of his feelings and that I need to be open.”

Yoongi stops eating and looks at  you. His mouth presses in a firm line, the only sign that he’s truly irritated. “Did he say that before you started to go on dates?”

“Nope. Only later when I became invested.”

“Then it’s bullshit,” Yoongi scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re interested in different things, not violating a boundary. What an asshole.”

“They all are.”

Groaning, you press your forehead to your palm, supporting the weight of your head with your elbow on the counter. You hate this. Hate the way it all makes you feel, hate that you want something so bad but it seems just out of your reach, hate that you’d love to find someone like Yoongi.

Once, you’d thought about asking him. You’d decided that your friendship was more important, because without him, who is there? 

Now you look for someone - anyone - to do the bare minimum. To not make it feel like you’re searching for a needle in a haystack the size of Olympus, or like you’re being irrational for wanting human decency. 

“I’m not,” Yoongi says softly. You hum a question, confused as to what he’s talking about. “An asshole,” he clarifies. “I’m not an asshole.” 

“Well I know that. But I’m not dating you.”

“So try it, then.”

You lift your head from your palm, looking at him sharply. Yoongi isn’t much in the way of poking fun at you - not in a way that is really at your expense. He doesn’t seem to be joking now, staring at you with honest, brown eyes, chewing his lip. 

“What?” 

“I said what I said.” He drops his gaze for a second - perhaps towards your lips - and meets your eyes again. Your heart speeds up, thudding against your ribcage. “So try dating me.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

He scowls. “Of course I’m not. I’m being serious.”

“You want to go on a date with me?” He nods. “Why?”

Blowing out a long exhale of air, Yoongi shrugs. The golden light from the sunset hits him at just the right moment, then. He’s wreathed in gold, a shining beacon of hope. Of an answer. Of something more. You lick your lips as Yoongi considers his answer. 

“Because I like you, for starters,” he says, giving you a look. A look that means he thinks you’ve asked a silly question. “Because I think that you are wonderful and creative, and a gentle soul. Because I think you deserve someone who is interested in working on something with you, and who won’t flee at the first sign of conflict. Because I empathize with you, I enjoy doing life with you, and because you’re beautiful.”

Any worry you’ve had about your feelings for Yoongi comes to a standstill. There, in your apartment, in the honey-haze of evening, you drop your chopsticks and press forward. Curious, a little bold, a little terrified. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath of air when he realizes what you’re doing, but he lets you anyway. 

Yoongi’s lips are soft. He tastes a little like soy sauce and sweet and sour, but you don’t care. Your heart thrums in your chest and your hands shake when you lift them to cradle his face. His hands go to your waist, holding you confidently, like they were made to fit there. 

Warmth blooms inside of your chest, unfurling dizzy petals as you pull your lips away from his. You don’t know where you got the bravery, but as your eyes flutter open to meet his gaze, deep and unwavering, you realize you don’t know why you were ever scared to consider him. 

Yoongi has always been right there. Holding your hand when you were lonely, offering a joke when you were sad. There have been countless times you could have had this, you realize. Little moments where the tension grew too thick or your gazes lingered too long. 

It’s only until now that someone was brave enough to say something. 

“Okay,” you breathe, fingers gentle against his warm face. He smiles, eyes crinkling. “It’s really that easy, huh?”

“It always was. I was always right here.”

You press your lips against his again, chaste and sweet. 

“You’re right. You were always right here.” 

UGHHHHHH just watching this couple grow and banter and learn and spend their time together AND build their life around each other MAKES ME SO HAPPY 😫😫😫😫😫 i wish the best for them <33 THANK U SO MUCH ART

summary: in which you make jungkook’s world spin and you tend to… make him a little too dizzy.

> idol!jungkook x reader / est. relationship, fluff, angst / word count: 7k

> content/warnings: yea shirtless jungkook should be a warning… one (1) spank then he kisses it better, also gives a kiss to that lil bow on oc’s undies >:( + a flashback of oc crying and him getting stressed out bcs oc is a careless brat fr

> in which masterlist!

note: hehe i’m here <3 this drabble is basically just oc in a mood and jungkook being the sweetest bf ever 🤨 idk how it got this long either heh it didn’t feel that way at all while i wrote-edited? but i hope u enjoy and i’d love to hear ur thoughts 🥺 reblogs/feedback are appreciated !! <3

—

“oh my god- fuck!”

you cover your mouth in shock, squeezing your eyes shut and flinching at the ear-splitting sound that bounces off the walls of the apartment.

jungkook is rendered frozen, eyebrows furrowed and jaw slacked, staring down at his shirt largely stained by the chocolate milk you were walking around with after brunch.

“damn…”

his eyes are irritable when they communicate with yours.

“baby! really? did it have to be the white one?”

but seconds later, they become worried and calculating — wandering all over the tiled floor, and then your bare feet infront of his slides-clad ones, surrounded by shattered pieces of ceramic.

the collateral damage. an unforeseen tragedy.

suffice to say, jungkook woke up this morning blissfully unaware of the turbulent storm threatening to make a playground out of your mind. it’s craving to feed destruction, and here he is living with you under the same roof, an unfortunate casualty from your antics.

the hand-painted mug, wet from the condensation, slipped away from your hands when you accidentally collided with his tough build at the intersection of the living room and the kitchen. this… wasn’t part of the plan. the plan was a little spill and this is a landslide.

“that was expensive too.” you utter wistfully, chest deflating as you release an exasperated breath. “sorry. i’ll clean up everything. just stay there and i’ll- when did i last see the broom-”

his doe eyes grow two times its size when you start looking around the apartment in search of the broom, and perhaps something you can use to pat yourself and jungkook dry, causing your feet to unconsciously shift on the treacherous ground.

“ba-baby! don’t move! you’re going to hurt yourself. are you crazy?” he interrupts you with a hiss, voice stern as his hands curl around your arms to hold you steady. “it’s okay. this is nothing, i’m not mad… just stay still, understand?”

you nod slowly as he lets go, eyebrows knitting together to convey confusion when he starts pulling his shirt over his head, revealing miles of bare skin and planes of defined muscles on a perfect silhouette. perfect because it’s jungkook.

alright… to see him half-naked wasn’t one of your intentions, but you’re definitely not one to complain.

“tsk, i think i need to shower again.”

figuring that the internet has a solution to every problem one could think of, jungkook has decided to accept the horror that has happened to his shirt. what was it again? salt? vinegar? baking soda? powder? fuck it, he’ll search for it later.

he throws caution to the wind by using it to wipe his damp torso, brushing it over his tan skin glistening with a sheen of the liquid that you wittingly spilled. he winces at the uncomfortable stickiness that could be felt across his stomach, but he can’t help but to laugh when he sees how it further accentuated his abs.

and if only you were in a chipper mood today, you would be laughing along with him. would’ve taken over cleaning him up, apologized with a kiss on his waist. too bad you’re not.

eventually, he gives up on erasing on the feeling, proceeding to fold the shirt in halves.

“what are you doing?” you snap, putting on a guise of harsher irritation over your dreamy stares at your boyfriend’s glorious physique. “are we just supposed to stand here forever like idiots?”

“what is this? why are you so grumpy today?” he questions with a frown, patting your cheek with the soft cottony fabric because the splash managed to reach your face unbeknownst to you.

and then he bends down to place the folded shirt infront of your feet, looking up to you with his galaxy-filled eyes to say, “here- come on. stand here while i clean up.”

you stand isolated on the safe zone he created, childishly pouting with your arms crossed over chest as you wait for him to pick up your slippers in the bedroom.

the simple answer to jungkook’s question is you’re bored and in a bad mood. the more complex answer would be you came up with a one-man game you can only win if you successfully piss your boyfriend off, but you’re too scared to pull off anything that will legitimately make him upset with you.

because the last time you made him angry, it hasn’t been… that long ago. he’s been keeping a closer eye on you since then, and you’ve been trying to be good. keyword being trying. after all, you did lost his car key… at a beach three hours away from home. you searched the entire shore — retraced your steps, made your knees and palms bleed digging through the rocky sand, curled up by the waves to wallow in self-blame and the smell of salt-air defeat. you were nearly in tears as you listened to the call ring for what felt like an eternity, unsure if he already wrapped up the company meeting he mentioned to you the day before.

you still remember the desperate words you greeted him with instead of ‘hello’.

“babe, promise me you won’t be mad.”

—

“____, you didn’t even tell me you were coming here! care to explain that to me first? huh?”

your name, and not ‘baby’? heavens above have mercy; you’re fucked.

jungkook presses the heels of his palms over his eyes to alleviate the dull throbbing of his head, breathing heavily to compose himself, but he can’t disguise the frustration deeply embedded in his voice.

“you scared me!”

not yelling, but tone evidently very upset with you. somehow, that makes you feel worse.

“i had to make up an excuse infront of everyone and drive here fast. i was so worried of you being here all alone when it gets dark!”

“it’s your car so i thought i had to let you know right away. i’m sorry.” you chew at your bottom lip anxiously, eyes brimming with tears as you barely muster up the courage to observe how he’s handling this.

your heart pounds louder in your chest when he finally looks down at you, guilty and gloomy, sat on a wooden bench painted yellow. it drops to your stomach when you see the sullen expression painting his face a light shade of red.

“where did you lose it?”

you open your mouth, but no words come out. you can only manage to point at the shore with your disoriented eyes, and he traces the direction with his. the majestic orange sky where the sun descends below the horizon fails to be recognized by your foggy, distracted minds.

it’s silent for a few beats, then he huffs, breathing out a sarcastic chuckle before burying his face in hands.

“baby, please. please. are you sure you’re not pranking me right now?”

“no! do you think i’d joke like this? i really tried my best to find it!” you sniffle, roughly wiping away the lone tear that escapes your eye. you’re almost too humiliated to continue talking, volume falling a few notches above a whisper. “but the waves were getting stronger.”

he vehemently shakes his head, rendered speechless and stuttering, malfunctioning. he doesn’t think he has ever imagined this type of scenario before. “this is crazy. really… this is unbelievable… how did this even happen?”

he exhales loudly before removing his hands, revealing a calmer exterior. be that as it may, his skin is more flushed, all the way to his ears and down to his neck, where his veins have become noticeably prominent.

“i mean, what else can we do about it? i’ll request for a new one.”

“but are we just going to leave the car here?”

“did you leave anything in there?”

“i left my bag, but…” you pat the pockets of your skirt to check if your valuables didn’t meet the same fate as the car key. “i brought my phone and wallet with me.”

he nods. “then i’ll call a towing service.”

you pout.

“it’s such a bother.”

feeling exhausted after burning a concerning amount of energy in search of the missing item, you stand on wobbly feet to loop your arms around his waist.

maybe it’s to coax him into forgiving you. maybe it’s to make yourself feel better, nuzzle your face on his chest to drive away the anxiety weighing on your shoulders. but as it’s being lifted off, so is the barrier withholding your salty tears.

“i’m so careless. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i should’ve drove my car instead.”

“ye- no, that’s not…” he cuts himself off with a sigh.

he puts an arm around you, pushing his hair back and repeatedly carding his fingers through it out of habit.

“seriously, baby… you stress me out so much, do you know that? you’re always wandering around places you’re not familiar with… this is secluded. it’s dangerous. you could get hurt if you bump into the wrong people… really, i’m just relieved it’s not yourself that you lost this time!”

the recollection of old flashbacks playing in his mind like a movie reel elicits a throaty chuckle from him, low and rough, the vibrations of his chest rudely awakening the butterflies in your stomach.

“you couldn’t even send me a text. you didn’t turn on your location. i would’ve lost my fucking mind again… did you even thought of that? or is that what you wanted, huh? baby? you enjoy driving me crazy like this?”

and the confession tucked inside his scolding obliterates any coherent thoughts in your head, causing you to lose control of your whirlwind of emotions.

“this isn’t fair. you said you won’t be mad.” you wail out in response, tears fiercely leaking from your eyes akin to a rainstorm. “i didn’t know this would happen!”

he clicks his tongue, gingerly caressing your wet cheeks with his thumb, then with the rest of his fingers, and the paw of his jacket, because the streams just seem to have no plans of ceasing. his wide eyes worriedly scans your tear-stained face, heart squeezed painfully by the restrained sobs forcefully ripping themselves from your throat.

“shhh, shh. don’t cry- don’t cry. i’m not mad, i was just worried about you.”

“jungkook, you’re lying.” you whine. “don’t lie to me. i don’t like it.”

he slowly blinks at you, head hanging low as to compose his thoughts before he reconnects with your eyes. a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips before his tongue unconsciously sweeps over them, its tip catching the silver ring piercing through his skin to play with it.

a moment of silence, thick with restlessness and anticipation, harder to breathe with the unique smell of the salt-air entering and leaving your lungs.

you feel small under his stoic gaze. you want to sit back down and cry harder.

your boyfriend is mad. your boyfriend is infuriatingly hot even when he’s disappointed in you. you need to dig a hole in the sand and live there forever. after everything, these are the only thoughts left running in your head.

“okay, fine. you lost the key of our car in the ocean, ____. but what if someone already found it by chance?” he cocks his head to the side, briefly peering at the road behind you.

he knows that it’s no use. even if he does see the white jeep wheeling by, is he supposed to assume that he can outrun it by some heaven-granted miracle?

“what then? hm…? what else can we do? i guess it could be getting stolen right now and we don’t even know. you parked so far away.”

god, please, not your favorite car.

“it’s not only the car. i still have important documents left in the compartment too.” this only dawns on him now, judging by the look of distress written on his face. he suddenly slaps his thigh, and you flinch a little. “fuck! i should’ve cleaned sooner!”

“then you are mad.” you arrive at a conclusion, chin wobbling as you sniffle. “about a lot of things.”

you resist the urge to stomp your feet. you want to throw a tantrum so bad. tell him that he shouldn’t be keeping such things in the car in the first place, that he owns a safe for fuck’s sake, but you know you can’t get away with shifting the blame because you messed up horribly in comparison.

“i get it. i’m sorry… i take full responsibility this time.”

“shit, baby.” he deeply sighs.

it becomes quiet again. he just looks at your face with knitted eyebrows, not saying anything more, and you try your best to cut off your crying, not to act conscious, but your eyes still fall on the sand. they stay there for a few beats to avoid the intensity of his gaze.

he almost sounds pained when he finally speaks. “how can i stay mad at you when you’re crying?”

he tilts up your chin, and your glassy eyes, sparkling with a new wave of tears, look at him beseechingly.

the setting sun. an eternal witness to a brand new day of humans being humans. it kisses your skin with its golden light, bathing your figure to radiate an angelic glow that drives him to consider once more that you could just be an enchanting character across dreams and the year is still 2017.

you sniffle again, brushing off his hand. sometimes you despise that jungkook brings out messiest, most unstable side of you. you know that he practically signed up for this, and he will always love you the same, love you even more. but that doesn’t take away the fact that you’re so embarrassed.

“but i’m not crying just to make you feel bad, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“yah, that wasn’t what i meant?” he frowns, eyes softening at your reply. “of course. i know that.”

the cracks in your voice, he seals with a soft kiss on your lips, tender and swollen caused by the onslaught of your sharp teeth.

“anyway, i can take care of replacing it. i mean, it’s not like it can get stolen just like that, right…?”

he sounds rather nervous convincing the both of you.

“but i’m most worried about you. i can lose everything but you.” his tattooed arm pulls you closer, casting aside the tension by leaving not even an inch of space between your bodies. he tenderly rubs your back to console you, and another kiss is granted to your temple, his soothing voice slightly muffled as his lips stay glued to you. “did i make you cry? i’m sorry, baby, i’m sorry… it’s okay. things like this can happen.”

“no, i’m sorry.” you aggressively shake your head and he carries on with wiping your cheeks, the back of his hand brushing off the tears that drip across your chin. he dries his hand on the hem of his jacket only to get it wet all over again.

“let’s just learn from this and move on. promise me that you’ll be more careful next time, okay? you can do that, right?”

jungkook does scold you every now and then, but although you stress him out, he would hate it if he’s not the first person you call when you’re in trouble. he would hate it if you act nonchalant and secretly cry when you’re hurt. but most of all, he can’t imagine a life in which you don’t make his world spin, much as he tends to get too dizzy at times.

your defiant hum makes his tense shoulders drop in disappointment.

“there should be a bus stop somewhere, i’ll just go home on my own. i don’t want to keep stressing you out.”

you will yourself to break free from his embrace, dragging yourself away to leave behind a trail of footprints in the sand, and he knows he’ll be running after you today, too.

“oh? you better stop right there!” he warns with a hand over his hip.

you become smaller and smaller in his eyes with every tick of the clock, much like how the sun is gradually getting swallowed by the ocean.

“i’ll get angry for real if you disappear from my sight. really, i’m not joking!”

angry? what a joke. you know that he’d cry blood searching for you if you get lost.

“oh? you’re really not going to stop?!”

jungkook’s voice fall on deaf ears, except that of the dog leashed to a tree that stands infront of a humble home. it seethingly barks at him from many meters away.

“fucking shit. i need alcohol.” he chuckles to himself, rubbing his tired eyes. “____, i swear, you’re getting too stubborn these days. what should i do with you?”

but you’re too far away to hear him, and so, he answers himself.

“eh, it is what it is.”

the wind blows with a quiet whistle, deadly as it fuels the roaring waves.

“AH! nuh-uh!” he exclaims, jaw dropping in alarm when he sees an urgent reason to chase after you, putting those leg days at the gym to good use.

you jump, a squeak leaving your mouth when out of nowhere, a solicitous palm smooths over your behind, sliding down to the back of your thighs to hold down your rippling skirt.

but you’re determined to be unyielding, eyes shooting daggers at jungkook. “leave me alone. i can do it myself.”

“baby, isn’t that a little rude? is that how you say ‘thank you’?”

“thank you. now let’s go our separate ways.”

and just like that, you’re walking away again.

“shit.” he curses quietly through gritted teeth, pulling at his hair. “babe, please come back… i’m sorry! i didn’t mean that!”

—

“jungkook! how many times do i need to tell you to turn off faucet properly?!”

you’re hot on jungkook’s tail as he makes his way to the laundry room beside the kitchen, carrying a laundry basket over his hip. he’s still shirtless, only clad in a different pair of shorts after a quick shower.

“the bathroom sink was close to overflowing! again!”

“i know what you’re doing.”

“what? what am i doing?”

the basket touches the ground, standing beside the dryer, and then he turns to face you, eyebrows shooting up. “picking a fight with me won’t work today.”

“why?” your tone borders on a whine.

“what do you mean ‘why’?” he laughs in jest. “why? why do you want to fight with me so bad?”

“i don’t know.” you exhale loudly, rolling your eyes and shrugging. “just because!”

“well, that’s not very convincing, is it?” he teases you with a grin, proceeding to open the dryer to dump the fresh laundry in the basket. the clothes you wore in the past week once again soaked up the sweet, floral scent the people around you distinctly recognizes to be your own and jungkook’s.

“i know, but i’m done playing now. you’re not hearing me.” you close your eyes in frustration, recounting the other times you had to say these exact words. “you’re going to flood our house.”

“okay, okay. i won’t forget to double-check it from now on. i promise.”

“sure, that’s what you also said last time.” you indignantly scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “i’m not turning it off for you anymore. if we get flooded, i’m leaving you. i’m moving out.”

your threat puts a halt to his movements for a split second before he’s adorably replying in a sing-song voice. “then i’m going with you.”

“no, you’re not.”

and it doesn’t come as a shock to you that jungkook doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“huh! good luck trying to stop me.” he slams the door of the dryer shut, standing up straight. “it’s not easy getting rid of me. you know that.”

he walks to the middle of the room to get a good view of you at the entrance. with the other resting on his hip, he lies his palm flat over the counter, outstretched arm cascading with varied colors of ink in sharp lines and swirling curves.

fuck, he has to know what he’s doing — flexing his muscles like that, not playing fair.

“aigoo, look at you glaring at me. you want to fight?”

and you’d feel intimidated by his challenging stare, the quirk of his eyebrow, his teeth sinking on his bottom lip… only if he didn’t blink to rake a stare over your body, lingering on your smooth legs that couldn’t be covered by your mere underwear. only if they didn’t flicker back to your face, and only if he didn’t smirk like a lovesick fool.

“so cute.” he chuckles. “you’re totally my type.”

“shut up.” you roll your eyes at the random compliment. “i know, i already get that a lot.”

his smile then fades, not so thrilled with the reminder that it’s so easy to fall in love with you, and therefore anyone would die to take his place. he knows that they hover around you like flies when he’s not there. well, he really can’t blame them, can he? you’re so fucking attractive.

“what does that mean…? who else is saying it, huh? tell me. i think i have a few guesses.”

“does it matter?” you stare at him blankly, which then turns into a piercing glare. “jungkook! i was just talking about you not paying enough attention. look at you proving me right!”

the stomp of your feet on the floor tells him that you’ve reached a level of frustration near to inducing a flood of tears.

oh, he truly got called out, huh?

“i’m sorry- i’m sorry. i admit that. i’m sorry, my love. i was just joking around. i’m listening well now.” he winces guiltily, beckoning you to be where he is. “come here then.”

“i don’t want to.” you stay rooted in your spot. “who do you think you are?”

“m-me…? i’m your boyfriend. boyfriend!” he points at himself, index finger repeatedly poking his bare chest to emphasize his point. his arm then drops to his side. his doe eyes widen as he breathes out a sigh of disbelief. “oh, i’m really getting upset now?”

you bite back a smile. the sweet taste of victory.

you can’t be the only one, can you?

“aish, i see you’re having your way again.” he chuckles, taking it upon himself to cross the distance between you. his hands find purchase on the curves of your waist, and every nerve in your body turns into a live wire. “let’s just go out today. do you want to practice boxing at the gym with me?”

didn’t he just watch you do arms day this morning? does he think you have the same stamina as him? you make a face of disapproval and shake your head.

“shall we go to a rage room again then? break more stuff?” he playfully sticks his tongue out, and you glare once more.

for the record, you loved that mug.

“boring.”

“and fighting with me is fun?”

you purse your lips into a thin line. “well, it’s not boring.”

“of course.” he laughs, softly squeezing your waist, pads of his thumbs mindlessly tracing shapes over the fabric of your top.

all of a sudden, he’s tugging you closer to envelope you in his embrace, voice slightly muffled as he sweetly talks. “are you mad at me for real? i’m sorry. sorry, sorry, sorry. sorry. i’ll really be more mindful of the things you remind me about, i swear… i don’t like fighting. it breaks my heart when you cry.”

what is this five foot ten man with bulging biceps, tattoo sleeve, and piercings doing here in the crook of your neck — affectionately nuzzling his face on your skin and telling you in a baby voice that he doesn’t like fighting?

you don’t know, but you feel good.

and his bare body is so comfortingly soft and warm.

he draws back for a kiss but his nose and lips only graze your cheek when you turn away, and you don’t see the sadness that flashes across his face.

“so what i’m hearing is… you don’t like fighting with me because i’m too sensitive? is that the truth?”

“no!” he perks up to interject without hesitation, shaking his head. “but i don’t think that’s a bad thing anyway… being sensitive.”

but you admit being a crybaby. you cry when you’re angry.

that’s when jungkook distinguishes the glint of mischief swimming in your irises. he feels dizzy after having his heart drop to his stomach.

“no. no, no.”

his mirthful grin returns, revealing his perfect set of teeth.

“ahh, i’m stressed!” he closes his eyes, throwing his head back, chest puffing up when he breathes in then out. “i knew it. no, i’m not falling for this trap!”

then he flees the room carrying the laundry basket, leaving you doubled over and covering your mouth to silence your giggles of amusement.

“i’m hanging the laundry now!”

“how dare you walk away from me?!”

“you can’t follow me!”

“i’m not.” you scoff, purposely bumping your hips against his. “i’ll vacuum the living room.”

—

“where are you going? gym?” you genuinely begin to sulk, watching your boyfriend slide into a baggy pair of bleached denim pants. “are you leaving me here?”

he avoids your inquiring eyes, ignoring you as he pulls up his zipper and does the button. you pout when he walks further away to pull out a black shirt from the clothing rack.

“is that it? are you tired of me already?”

he tosses its hanger in the basket where you discard the empty ones before wearing the final piece of clothing, covering himself fully for the first time today.

you sigh, feeling dejected. “you don’t love me anymore?”

and jungkook needs to physically restrain himself so he won’t grab your face and say ‘i love you’ over and over again until he runs out of breath.

you leave the closet to follow him to the bedroom, where he sits on the edge of the mattress to put on his socks.

you stand by him, patience quickly running thin. “hello?”

he brushes away the non-existent dirt on the left sock before switching his legs to put on the right one.

“did i turn invisible?”

your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. this isn’t how fighting works. you need a reaction at the very least.

you tug at the sleeve of his shirt, starting to get annoyed, already planning your exit if he continues this act. “you’re hurting my feelings. you’re not even going to look at me?”

he mumbles, and you almost fail to piece his phrase together. “can’t, you’re too pretty.”

his big brown eyes faintly glimmer with hope when he looks up at you, puckering his rose-tinted lips and making kissing sounds.

your sweet and clingy boyfriend, he’s making this too difficult.

a tsunami of affection washes over you, and it becomes impossible for you not to crack at his cheekiness then. “jungkook, you’re impossible!”

atleast he tried to shoot his shot.

“tsk, see? i thought so!” he grumbles, snapping the elastic band on his ankle. “just want one kiss.”

he disappears into the closet again.

he returns not a minute later, unceremoniously placing a white bucket hat on your head before tugging it down to obstruct your vision.

“hey!”

you hastily take it off, scowling at your laughing boyfriend who turns out to be already wearing a black bucket hat of his own.

“you’re bored, aren’t you? let’s go out, have some sun.”

“no.”

you reply exactly as your boyfriend predicted you would.

jungkook captures your wrist to slip his credit card on your palm, folding your fingers over it, but they aren’t enough to hide the black rectangular thing you can use to buy the world with if you wanted to. your amusement spills out as giggles, brighter as he pushes your hand to your chest so you have no other choice but to accept it.

he scrunches his nose, face only inches away from yours as he persuades you with his natural charm. “what if we go shopping, hmm?”

“thanks babe, but i can’t think of anything i want right now.” you sniffle with teary eyes, flipping the card and holding it between your longest fingers as muscle memory takes control.

“then just keep it incase you see something you want.”

he kneels on the floor out of the blue, and you eye him curiously, your fingers automatically tangling with his silky locks before making a loose fist.

“here, put some pants on. hurry-” he presents your pair of faded gray cargo pants.

you tug at his hair lightly, which prompts him to lift his head. you scrunch your nose cutely, giggling. “i’m spoiled.”

“ey, so what if you are?” he brushes off your observation with his satoori accent, blithe tone listing down reasons. “i love you. i worked hard so i can do these things for you. we moved in together so we can take care of each other.”

and you want to cry. you truly do. your face began to feel warm after he said that he loves you, but the tears never make it past your lash line when his big palm lands a loud smack on your ass, skin-to skin.

“but i do think that you are a brat. does that count for something?”

it catches you by surprise, and a scandalized gasp escapes your mouth as you feel the sting spreading across your skin.

“shut up! give that to me.” you roll your eyes, stealing the pants from his grasp.

“see, that’s what i’m talking about.” he chuckles lightheartedly. “get dressed then.”

his fingers dig in the soft flesh of your thighs when he pulls you closer to kiss the tiny little ribbon on your underwear, heart-shaped lips pressed to you so firmly you can trace their outline bleeding through the thin fabric and onto your skin. “mmm-mwah!”

and then you feel them there next, where it still hurts, a softer kiss in comparison to soothe the sting he left behind.

your heart is beating so loud you can feel it in your throat, feeble knees nearly giving away to crash and break.

who does that so casually? who the hell does that?

oh, right… jungkook. of course.

you raise the white flag today.

perhaps he will flood the apartment tomorrow, and you can stay angry longer then.

—

“what’s taking him so long?” you mutter absentmindedly to yourself, lost eyes scanning the park in hopes of getting a glimpse of your boyfriend and his classic jungkook outfit, but he’s still nowhere to be seen.

your sour mood makes a reappearance.

to your credit, taking you out and then asking you to wait here without telling you where he’s going is rude, and you’re lonely and jealous of the couples around you having a picnic. not to mention that the clouds have uncovered the sun and you’re burning.

this scene also leads your brain to wander to those cliche flashbacks in a film or a show where a parent lies to their child that they’ll come back, and then they doesn’t. it’s always, always at some sort of park.

oh, for fuck’s sake, why are you wasting your time giving this a lot of thought?

too bored and antsy to sit still, you finally decide to text jungkook.

to: my baby love

i'm gonna look for food. do you want anything?

orrr is that what you're away buying 😥

WHERE ARE YOU

why didn't you just take me with youuuu

?

please me lonely :(

[sent 1 photo]

a black cat !! is sleeping on my shoes!! 😭

i miss you :(

are you almost done

i hate u

whatever i'm going. call if you still remember that you're someone's bf i guess.

—

jungkook crosses the street like an excited puppy, long pretty hair bouncing as he practically skips his way to the area where he left you to wait.

only to be greeted by a complete stranger.

his radiant beam fades into a hue of confusion.

the bench is now occupied by a woman chugging an energy drink after running laps around the park.

they lock eyes for a split second. he averts his befuddled stare to pretend that nothing happened, walking past her with a bouquet of sunflowers until he settles down two benches away.

he wears his bucket hat again only for him to throw it aside with a sigh, messing with his hair to release his frustration. of course you left. he can only snort to himself while he reads the last message you sent. you’re so cute. he knows you’ve never been keen on having to wait, but he didn’t expect himself to take so long either.

not wanting you to be upset with him another second longer, he instantly decides to call you.

his forehead creases when his phone vibrates, informing him that he typed an incorrect password. he tries again, slow and deliberate, only for the same thing to happen, and he begins to feel nervous.

what the fuck?

okay, calm down, JK. one more time.

he freezes as the same words flash on the screen. his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he feels the irritation bubbling up inside of him.

“why is it like this…? what’s your problem? what am i touching wrong?”

—

you return to the park more carefree than before. since jungkook is god knows where, you decided to have a picnic on your own. you had to buy a new picnic blanket, though. you can’t get the one in the car because he has the key. but just to be petty, you hope that he figured it out from the text notifications he got when you used his card.

oh, there he is looking angrily at his phone.

you halt on your tracks, instantly pulling the brakes on your feet when you recognize your boyfriend from your peripheral vision. you slowly chew the remaining tteokbokki in your mouth.

he’s holding his phone… and he hasn’t called you yet?

“wow, did you seriously forgot about me?”

upon hearing your familiar voice, jungkook’s features soften, not having to squint at the sunlight either because you’ve kindly blocked it with your back.

“where did you even go? i didn’t see you!”

the password-protected device that’s been giving him a headache for the past ten minutes is abandoned in the depths of his pocket.

“baby,” he utters airily as he stands on his feet, reaching out to hold your forearm. “i’m sorry. i took so long, didn’t i…? i went to buy you flowers but they didn’t have tulips anywhere. anywhere. every shop said someone bought all of them!”

he scratches his head with a sheepish grin, revealing the bouquet he’s been concealing behind him.

“i got you sunflowers instead… they-” he points at them, eyes flickering on the bundle of yellow flowers he’s offering as a gift. “they’re not bad. i think they’re pretty too. you like them too, right?”

sunflowers are pretty. after all, it used to be your favorite in middle school, mostly because it’s the first flower you received from an admirer… it was for your birthday and you felt like you died when it withered, heavily on-brand for a young heart drawn to romance. excluding that, everything has changed. it’s a typical saturday and beads of sweat have formed on your lover’s forehead after running around under the sun. you think you can keep them alive longer this time around.

“i like you the most.”

and then he receives his gift in return, that particularly sweet smile of yours he only sees when you’re so giddy.

his heart flutters wildly at your following actions.

“kiss.” you adorably demand, copying his pout earlier when he was asking for a kiss.

but unlike you who left his wish ungranted, he crosses the distance to plant a kiss on your lips. he pulls away a mere three inches, muttering to confront you. “but i thought you hated me?”

“who said that? that wasn’t me.” you feign ignorance, eyes so wide as to mimic being confused. you carefully take the flowers into your embrace, subtly exchanging it with the paper bowl you’re holding. “thank you, baby… here, do you want tteokbokki?”

he goes for the fish cake first, poking it with the stick and popping it in his mouth. you find yourself too absorbed in admiring the sunflowers one by one to sense your boyfriend staring at you, thinking to himself, you’re always worth the effort and this overpriced tteokbokki is pretty damn good.

“i turned on my location like i promised i would. did you see?” you mention without looking at him, acting laidback, still too shy when anything related to the incident is brought up.

he awkwardly smiles. no, he didn’t, unfortunately. he’s still fucking locked out of his phone.

you whimper when he pinches your cheek. “good job, baby.”

—

jungkook removes his head on your stomach to lie down beside you on the red picnic blanket. his hair touches his face and he tucks them behind his ears for the millionth time today.

“will you type my password for me?”

you take his phone without question, putting yours over your chest for the meantime. you successfully unlock it within a second, experienced fingers nimble after years of typing on the daily.

“here.” you hold it out for him without looking, picking up your own phone to continue scrolling through trending topics. however, seconds pass and the heavy weight on your hand has yet to be eased, so you wiggle it to catch his attention. “hey, it’s done.”

he gasps, gaping at you in bewilderment. “how did you do that?”

“you changed it again last night, remember? because i told you our anniversary isn’t a good idea.”

shit, right. he added a new one to the list of passwords that he uses for everything. he totally forgot about that. you’ve taken over every working brain cell that he has in his body.

“baby, this is your fault!” he groans, finally snatching away his phone. “ah- i wanted to throw it away. i didn’t know what was wrong with it. i was seriously so close to crying!”

that bad? was he about to get all his data wiped out? your poor baby. you laugh out loud at his reaction, belly aching as you roll over to wrap your arm around his waist and bury your face on his side.

“anyone can guess it if they try hard enough.”

“but that was the trick, you know? they’d think it’s too easy. they wouldn’t even consider it!”

“that doesn’t mean they won’t try it!”

“ah, i don’t care. i’m changing it back.” he stubbornly pouts, falling back on the blanket.

you want to cuddle. he feels a tug on the sleeve of his shirt and he immediately understands. he allows you to use his tattooed arm as a pillow. it envelopes you entirely when he reaches for his phone to type with both hands, and you automatically snuggle with him closer by resting your head on his chest.

“fine. do what you want, you dummy. you better not leave your phone lying around.” you mutter, heavy eyelids fluttering shut as the wind blows to softly caress your face. “and don’t take more pictures of me sleeping.”

“you’re sleeping? i thought we’re going to the mall.”

“we are. i’m letting you rest before you carry shopping bags.”

“ah- wow. thanks, baby.”

you don’t how much time passes, a minute or ten or more, but falling into a deep sleep proves to be impossible with the cacophony of sounds you’re surrounded with. you’re resting somewhere away from the crowd, but there’s still the hiphop music from a bluetooth speaker, honking of vehicles… and the main culprit, jeon jungkook scrolling through tiktok on your phone and bookmarking videos for you to watch later on. you can hear his giggles louder than his heartbeat, feel them make his body vibrate throughout.

so, you give up. you open your blurry eyes with a tired sigh, blinking to readjust to the brightness. he feels your movements, your nose brushing against his neck, and he squeezes you to his side, dutifully stroking your head to remind you that you’re safe despite being in a public place because you’re with him. you kiss his cheek to show your appreciation.

you end up harmonizing with his giggles when you do decide to join him, nearly tearing up at the sight of a cat riding a motorcycle toy on the screen. a little while later, your fascination is then stolen by fiddling with his tattooed hand — tracing the veins, the lines, the tattoos; pressing the faded heart like it’s a button connected to the beating one in his ribcage; grazing the rough areas of his palm calloused by lifting heavy weights.

and as you do so, you mull over the house by the sea you’re saving up for. how much longer will it take? should you check out more locations? do you tell jungkook? that it’s your back-up plan, a place where no one knows your name, just like how this city once was. it’s where you would run to, where you would build a new life if the time comes that this one falls apart, too. if not, if not, if not, would it be so bad to wake up beside you with an ocean view when he’s sixty?

fuck, you don’t know anymore. it shouldn’t be this hard— not anticipating the worst, but still being prepared for it. you despise being an adult.

you do it absentmindedly, taking off one of your silver rings and slipping it into each of his fingers to see where it would fit best… he knows you’re only entertaining yourself, but feeling it in his ring finger still puts a lump in his throat.

“are you proposing to me?”

“this is your right hand, silly.” you tease your stunned boyfriend, sticking your tongue out. “if you want me, come and get me.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

BEAUTIFUL!!! the longing, sadness, understanding, everything!!!! thank god they met at the coffee shop again and found each other 🥰🥰🥰

00:00 | myg

title: 00:00 wc: 10.9k pairing: myg x fem.reader

summary: in a world designed for soulmates you’re the odd one out. but you’ve found a way to navigate life on your own. until you meet min yoongi and your carefully constructed walls all tumble down.

genre: soulmate!AU.angst with a happy ending (this is a trope fest! Have some e2l, f2l, some fake dating, some fwb….you name it…)

rating: teen to (light) mature, I guess (see warnings)

warnings: allusions to death while giving birth, there’s a ton of sadness and loneliness felt by the main characters, a tiny bit of voyeurism, there’s pride and there’s prejudice (this is just me being stupid, there are not actual austen-references in this, i think), cheating (not by the main characters), badly researched medical terms (by me), people drink but they are of age and definitely have enough brains to enthusiastically consent to everything they do, implied smut (don’t forget protection. also, protect your data not just your health), profanity.

a/n1: this is a commission for @dee-ehn​ for @armyadvocates ‘ ARMY for AAPI fundraiser (find resources here) Dear Danica, Thank you for comissioning this fic! I hope you like it! I’m sorry that it took me so long!

a/n2: THANK YOU @hobi-gif​ for betareading, you made this so much better. I’m so grateful for your time and your attention to detail. <3 also THANK YOU to @jinpanman for beta-reading early parts of it as well, giving me feedback and hyping me up, when I was stuck. (and also for putting the post that inspired this scenario onto my dash.) <3

AO3 // Masterlist

Maybe it’s destiny’s cruel idea of a joke, but when Min Yoongi finally opens his mouth to let out the first scream of his life, the numbers on his tiny little wrist turn from 00:01 to 00:00.

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